


I Have Seen the Stars

by Desdemonia



Category: Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Depression, F/F, Femslash February, Heavy Angst, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Post-Canon Fix-It, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29706375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdemonia/pseuds/Desdemonia
Summary: Vader's lightsaber igniting behind her spoke more loudly than any words, however. Her lips trembled as she lifted her eyes to Cere's.Maybe now I can finally rest,Trilla thought. She didn't know how wrong she was at that moment.These are the ten moments that defined a beggining.
Relationships: Merrin & Trilla Suduri | Second Sister, Merrin/Trilla Suduri | Second Sister
Kudos: 14





	I Have Seen the Stars

Her features contorted into a snarl of hopelessness, the Second Sister disengaged her lightsaber. She didn't have it in her anymore, not now, not here. To continue this charade. She couldn't care less for the Empire, for the Inquisitors. For anything any those things stood for. She couldn't be at peace with what she had become, but she could at least accept that this would be a quick way to die.

Cere wanted her to go with them, she could tell, to escape. She, herself, wasn't sure she could stomach the thought of continuing to live after everything that had happened. She couldn't see any other way forward. Maybe it was for the best.

Perhaps she had wanted this all from the start. For Cal Kestis to end her life. It was an easy enough way to go.

"I've carried so much hate for you." She said, a tentative gesture towards Cere's offer. She had always felt a coward, in all her time in the service of the Inquisitorius. It was no different now, that even at the precipice she couldn't bring herself to reject an offer of help. Couldn't bring herself to just end it.

She felt the presence behind her. And then she heard the breathing. Perhaps she wouldn't have to face her feelings after all. She almost didn't heart when Lord Vader spoke behind her, and even then his words were muffled.

Vader's lightsaber igniting behind her spoke more loudly than any words, however. Her lips trembled as she lifted her eyes to Cere's.

 _Maybe now I can finally rest,_ Trilla thought. She didn't know how wrong she was at that moment.

"Avenge us." Were her last words. And then she knew no more.

* * *

The first thing that Trilla Suduri saw when she opened her eyes was the ceiling of the interrogation chamber of the Inquisitorius of Nur. She came to consciousness slowly, as if through a haze, before reality kicked in all at once. She sprung up to a seated position, or more accurately, _tried_ to. What happened instead was a scream of intense pain.

Her right arm was gone—she came to realize, in a sudden and terrifying moment of clarity—when she instinctively brought her left hand to where itshould have been, and the memories flooded back. She didn't quite know how she was still alive. She knew that Lord Vader had intended to have her killed, she was certain of that. But why she had not been brought to either an infirmary or an interrogation room she could not begin to guess.

Her first urge was to throw herself down into the lava and be done with the whole thing, but that was quickly squashed down by her much stronger, much more immediate survival instinct. Instead, she started to slowly crawl towards the raised bridge controls in hopes of using it as leverage to properly stand.

She came to a halt at the console's base, and—her energy waning—slumped to the side. Uncontrollable laughter bubbled out of her at the situation. Alive here, _still_ , despite everyone's best attempts to the opposite, including her own. Her laughter came to an abrupt stop, however, as a sudden, horrifying thought made its way into her mind. Cere was dead, she was sure of it. Cere had died, and Cal Kestis had died alongside her. She didn't know, precisely, how she knew it, but it was as if a half-formed memory from someone else's mind had drifted into her unconscious form.

 _No matter,_ she thought to herself, with a bitter downturn of her lips, as her hands found purchase on the control pedestal, which she used as leverage to gather all her will power to right herself to a stand. All at once the pain was indescribable, and she released a scream, muffled by her left shoulder. She moved a couple of steps, tears streamed down her face, and the cauterized, blackened skin which had covered the extensive amputation of her left arm and part of her left shoulder started to chafe. The continued movement caused hundreds of small wounds to open and blood to resume a flow down what remained of her uniform, its slow stream pooling to the ground as she moved forward.

She ambled over the door situated behind the interrogation chair, where Lord Vader had come from. It opened to her credentials, much to her surprise, but she was not about to question any good luck thrown her way, be it the force or simply by chance.

She started the walk towards the hangar bays. Hopefully, her interceptor was exactly where she left it after having landed in the Inquisitorius.

Her long walk towards the hangar, however, was stopped in its tracks by the bifurcation of the corridor. She had walked these paths enough to know the rightwards path led directly to the hangar bays, but she also was painfully aware that the left one would lead to the officer's quarters. To _her_ quarters. She could go towards her meager few possessions left, but…

She braced herself as she slumped against the corridor's wall, she took a good look at her right side, Her right leg was—thankfully—untouched. Her arm and shoulder however, she could see had bled more and more with every step. The effort of the long walk had caused further wounds to crack from the cauterized skin. Frankly, it was a surprise that she was still alive.

If she went in that direction, Trilla knew, she might never escape. If she escaped, she might regret never having gone back to her belongings. Either way, she was not sure the hope of escaping was even particularly real, but she avoided questioning it too much.

If she were to let her body fully realize how incredibly exhausted and hurt she was, Trilla doesn't think she would be able to move one more step at all. She felt selfish for wanting to recover her things. But she knew it was nothing else but dogma instilled in her by every single creed she had been part of. The Jedi, then the Sith. She had never been able to really have things, for one reason or another, and that was just one more way to compound her feeling of selfishness. To _want_ when she, herself, had taken so much from so many.

She had decided already, she realized, even as she pondered the best way to proceed. She knew she could have never abandoned the things she had hidden in her room, she had so painstakingly concealed from perception. She had no choice, because she had never left herself any.

Trilla knew she had very little time left when the intruder alarm started to sound, the corridor's light turning red and pulsing. She started to jog towards her quarters, every small movement worsening the pain and the bleeding.

The door to her personal quarters opened slowly, the atmosphere inside equalizing with the exterior. She took a couple of hesitant steps into the room, the lights turned on automatically, the door closed with a soft hiss behind her. Trilla spared no time, with quick movements in spite of her grievous injuries, she used the force to bash away the table in the center of the chamber, and with much more physical effort, fell to her knees and lifted the loose floor tile, which opened to reveal a solid metal base.

She quickly taped a complicated pattern into the metal, and moved to stand up again with difficulty when a small decompression fizzle started to sound just behind her. She turned just in time to see a small section of the wall open. She proceeded to limp towards it, quick to pick up the heavily padded and sturdy bag inside. she checked its integrity before she strapped it to her good arm. Trilla permitted herself a moment of dark amusement to the fact that she now could shoulder a bag in only _one_ shoulder.

Her walk towards the hangar bays was pronouncedly slower, her flagging strength diminished her pace to an almost crawl. She arrived at the viewing platform, her TIE Interceptor still parked in a resting position on the outgoing landing pads, ready for departure. A small group of mechanics was working on the outside scoring of her cockpit hatch, a ladder going down from the maintenance access platform.

She knew what she needed to do, she didn't have much time to dilly dally, or control would move maintenance to another ship. Gathering all the energy she still had, Trilla drew in what remained of her cape against her bleeding side, and strode into the control tower with all her might.

The officer on deck, a short man with a casual slouch against the hangar controls, instantly stood to a crisp salute, back straightening so suddenly Trilla was almost certain she could hear a faint crack.

"S-Second Sister!" He said, his short cropped mustache twitching as his eyes widened at her injury, "How can I be of service?"

Trilla looked imperiously at him, head held high in spite of the unbearable pain, "Lord Vader was quite displeased at the turn of events, as you can see…" She paused, taking a look at his rank insignia, "Captain. I have orders to be on the air and on my way as soon as possible. Instruct the maintenance crew to vacate the landing pad immediately."

The Captain looked unsure for a moment before he turned sharply on his heels and pressed a button on the controls. The maintenance crew looked around, and then quickly packed their equipment, climbing the ladder back towards the platform.

"Leave the platform, Captain," Trilla ordered, her harsh tone brooking no argument, "No sense in delaying departure." She turned to leave, and the doors closed behind her as she walked towards the maintenance platform. On the way she passed the maintenance crew, who saluted her crisply.

She descended the ladder down towards the cockpit, trusting more in the force to steady her movements than her own body, the lack of her right arm making it extremely difficult to properly stabilize her descent. Shucking her bag inside, she let herself fall down inside the cockpit, sinking against the seat.

It was a short job of getting the flight controls ready, the hatch closed down automatically and the maintenance platform retracted. She allowed herself a sigh and let her body relax, and the force to guide her as she started to exit the atmosphere. That was, until they started to fire at her.

Trilla cursed high and low, and used the force to guide the craft in the place of her missing arm. Her remaining limb turned levers and pressed buttons to bring up emergency shielding.

"TIE/IN 71-1138, you are under violation of Imperial high military command order sixty-six, turn down your engines and surrender or you _will_ be destroyed," a highly annoying voice sounded from her radio, as more and more turbolaser fire concentrated on her position.

"I repeat, TIE/IN 71-1138, you are un—" Trilla brought her remaining hand up, punching the radio receiver, which fell dead with a crack. She didn't know if she would be able to survive, either through turbolaser fire or her own injuries, but… Well, this _was_ her personal craft, and she had done a series of small modifications to it. Including disabling lockdown hyperdrive features.

No sooner had she started lining her Interceptor towards an hyperlane vector, did a series of turbolaser shots brought down her craft's shields, and finally hit its right wing.

The impact was tremendous, the Interceptor careening wildly out of the last stages of the planet's atmosphere, the explosion rupturing the canopy. The emergency boosters came online, righting the craft and stopping its spin, but Trilla already knew that there was no more escaping now.

She wished Cere could be here, or rather, she wished Cere could hear her. She just wanted to… Well, she was not sure what she really wanted anymore, but she would've wanted to have a last talk with her. 

Tears streamed down her face, Trilla pushing down her anguish and grief, but it just spilled out of her control, sobs loud against the background hiss of the atmosphere leaking into space. She wished Cere could know how much she really loved her, how much she wished things could have been different.

But they weren't. And she had just a final chance of doing something other than to die a slow suffocating death in space. There was no escaping anymore.

Feeling lightheaded with the lack of oxygen in the rapidly depressurizing cabin, Trilla plotted a hyperspace route which would take her Interceptor directly through the star destroyer fleet in orbit just as the hyperdrive launched the craft into hyperspace. She diverted all power to engines, but just as she was about to push the hyperspace lever, she found she had no energy left. She simply didn't have enough strength to pull a simple lever.

Trilla started laughing desperately, a hysterical tint to the sound as she contemplated the situation. Oh, to survive Darth Vader and then die asphyxiated in space. She could at least appreciate the irony of it all.

She settled down, a bitter smile on her face. She would have to wait to die. Maybe it was justice after all, nothing that she didn't deserve.

Her eyelids were finally closing down, as she slowly lost consciousness, the atmosphere generator having stopped working at last, when a sudden red and white blur haloed in green appeared right in front of her.

An angel, came the thought, unbidden, like the ones on the moons of Iego. She had heard of them before. Cere had once claimed to have met one. She scoffed at herself for her flights of fancy in her desperate last moments, surely an hallucination provoked by the lack of oxygen. 

Her body started to move of its own accord, much to her own confusion, as if she was being pulled out of her interceptor's cabin by an unseen force. She blinked, noticed the bloodstained seating coming into view, and the hyperspace engagement lever right in front of her.

 _Oh,_ she thought, _It's just right there._

Maybe this was her chance, she thought as she floated out to the vacuum of space. As a last ditch effort, she concentrated all her willpower into the force, biding the lever to move, and it slowly did so, to her immense surprise. If she was to die floating in space, she thought, the least the force could do was to help her in this last request.

Her last memory before losing consciousness was of an intense light. A white streak against the vast black of space.

* * *

"Are you sure kid?" Greez Dritus asked, his voice raised, "I don't see nothing on this water, you sure you got the right place?"

Merrin nodded, belatedly realizing that Greez wouldn't be able to notice as she was behind him, left hand clutching his seat's headrest, "Yes, that's the place, I'm quite sure."

Her right hand gripped her magic focus with vigor, and Merrin started concentrating on following Cal and Cere's energy signatures, a difficult task in any circumstance, let alone when they were surrounded by so much darkness, _and_ while she was also cloaking their vessel. Her eyes flashed an intense green, before Merrin held up her left hand in front of Greez.

"Here, here! We're right above them," She said, and as the _Mantis_ came to a roaring stop right above the water, Merrin turned sharply towards the ship's airlock. "Open the door, Greez, I don't know if I will have to jump in to retrieve them, but be ready to leave when I return," She said, raising her voice to be heard all the way into the cockpit.

"You sure this uhh, _cloaking_ of yours is gonna hold up? I'm seeing a fighter on sensors!" Greez exclaimed, the console in front of him beeping with the sensor proximity alarm.

"It should work, we are still cloaked, so unless they have a way to detect my magic directly this should have nothing to do with us," Merrin replied, tying the ends of her sleeves close tightly against her arms, before she grabbed the handholds close to the door.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm seeing it leave atmo—Hey, what the kriff!" Greez's exclamation was punctuated by the ship shaking as the nearby turbolaser tower started to shoot at the sky, "I don't know what the kriff's up with these people today," he shook his head, "But I guess that as long as they're not shooting at _us_ …"

Merrin smiled at Greez's anxious tirade. The man was one to start talking when things were getting _tricky_. She turned her attention back towards the waters right under the _Mantis,_ concentrating on feeling Cere and Cal, who were… Swimming? This was the moment she was waiting for.

"I'm on my way!" She shouted, before jumping from the open door's ledge, the feel of the magic that was shielding the ship disappearing as she hit the water. She could see Cal, holding on to Cere, but drowning. BD-1 frantically trying to pull him upwards on his back.

She swam towards the three, and was quick to grab onto Cal and Cere, each in a different arm, and to gesture for BD-1 to jump onto her back. Once the little droid had followed her gesture, she concentrated on the _Mantis_ , the shadows inside the ship taking form in her mind. Her eyes flared a deep green, and Merrin had only a moment to spare before gravity took her again, and she fell against the deck of the ship, completely soaked, Cal and Cere clutched to her chest.

"Shavit, kid! When did you get back?!" Greez all but screamed, eyes wide with astonishment, before he seemed to realize the situation they were in and quickly turned back to the ship's controls, "Nevermind, nevermind, you tell me later, I'm making sure we're on automated ascent, but I'll be there in a moment."

Fumbling with her legs for a disconcerting moment, Merrin laid Cal and Cere down on the floor, "That would be appreciated, yes."

Greez was there even quicker than what she imagined, taking Cal on his deceptively strong arms and shouldering the boy towards the rear bunkers, while she dragged a half awake Cere towards the lounge, putting her down on the edge of the sofa.

Cere blinked against the ceiling light for a moment, eyes finally focusing on Merrin's face, her face opening in a brief smile, "Oh, Merrin, thank you, I—" Cere coughed a bit, arm coming to the sofa's backrest to anchor herself, "Thank you for the rescue. I wasn't sure we would be able to escape at all, but I see we're already leaving atmo."

Looking at the skylight above the lounge, Merrin noticed that they were, indeed, leaving the planet's atmosphere, the black of the void and the brilliant stars starting to shine through the dark grey of Nur's sky.

"Greez got Cal, I take it?" Cere asked, inclining her head in the direction of engineering, "Well, we should be able to make quick—Argh!"

Before Merrin could do anything, Cere was falling down to her knees, hands holding her head, "Cere! Are you in pain? Cere!" Merrin tried to call out, to no avail.

Hands leaving her head unsupported, and quickly dashing to hold Merrin's arms, Cere looked at the witch from under her brows, her head lolling about with the motion of the ship's flying, "She's here," She said.

At Merrin's uncomprehending look, she repeated herself, "She's right here!" her hands grabbed at Merrin frantically.

"Who is where, now?! What's _happening!?"_ Greez shouted from the doorway, coming to stand close to Cere as he saw the woman's state, "What happened Cere, what's going on?"

Merrin rested a hand on her shoulders and squeezed, "Deep breaths, now, come on", she said.

Cere obliged, both physically and in the force, before she looked at both Merrin and Greez, tears falling down her face, "Trilla's here."

They were both shocked into silence. Greez slowly raised both eyebrows before speaking, "Wasn't she, uhh, wasn't she, y'know…" but that train of thought was quickly silenced by Cere's narrowed eyes, "Alright, alright! Listen, I'm just saying what I heard on comms, alright?"

He got up and rested one of his hands on Cere's shoulder as Merrin spoke, "Are you sure this is not a trap set out by the Man in Dark? His presence was stifling, and I don't think he would be content in letting us escape."

Cere shook her head, eyes closed, "No, no… No it's her I-I can _feel_ her. She—" Cere sighed, taking another deep breath, "She thinks I'm gone. She thinks I've died, that Cal is dead, and she wishes she could—" She cut herself before she could continue, a hand going to her head.

Merrin shared a concerned look with Greez. She had no fondness for the Second Sister herself, with the force user having chased them around the galaxy. But then again, if there was something they could do for _Cere_ …

Looking at Cere once again, she stared deeply into the other woman's eyes, and could see nothing but deep concern. She could tell that Cere was sure of what she spoke of.

Lifting an eyebrow and inclining her head, Merrin got up from her position kneeling besides Cere, and gave a nod to Greez, who nodded back, clasping his hands to Cere's and bridging her to her feet, "Alright _Master Jedi_ , let's see where this student of yours is."

Walking towards the main doors, Merrin moved to extend a magic shield around the ship, before she paused in thought for a moment to think. She hit the button for the internal comms, "I am correct in assuming she is in space?"

There was a moment of static before Cere's voice sounded from the wall, "Yes, yes," She said, voice turning more and more frantic as she continued, "Her fighter was shot at, and lost power, I think. And she is stranded in space, the atmosphere of her cabin leaking out…"

Merrin shuddered, the involuntary feeling coming into her mind all too easily. That had been the first fear she had when entering the _Mantis_ for the first time, the slow death of suffocation, or dehydration, or starvation... In a place where you would not be saved.

"Alright, we've got a sensor ping for a local debris field, and Cere's telling me this is close to the place, so stay alert kid," Greez's voice came from the intercom, "I'll warn ya before I open the door, there's a atmospheric shield in place, but we're counting on your spooky green stuff to do the rest."

Merrin smiled, "I'm as ready as I'll ever be, I suppose."

"Heh, don't worry, we've got it covered here, anything happen and you hit the emergency lockdown button right opposite to the door," Merrin spared a glance at it, the button almost hidden between the wall fixtures, "And we should be fine to go—Alright, alright I've got a flag for a Imperial TIE Interceptor on sensors, we should be getting close any moment now, and… There it is!"

The doors in front of Merrin slowly opened, the field of stars under the faint blue haze of shields snapping into place, and she saw the craft. Its right wing was completely destroyed, scattering millions of small particles in a sea of twinkling metal. Merrin could see the round cabin in the middle, with small clouds of vapor leaking out of it, clearly working towards complete depressurization.

The _Mantis_ moved again, slowly, and soon she was right in front of the cabin, a couple of smaller pieces of debris colliding against the ship's hull. She could hardly see inside, the canopy having fractured in such a way to turn the transparisteel almost completely white with cracks.

"Alright, we're as close as I can get you, so uhhh…" Greez said, voice unsure from the intercom, "Well, it's on your hands now."

Merrin moved her hands, her focus glowing the same bright green as her eyes, before a bubble started to form around the door, and slowly extended towards the cabin of the damaged Interceptor. She twisted her hands with precision, and sweat started to form on her brow, the efforts starting to take a toll on her.Before long she had covered all the space she could with the magic shield.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Merrin closed her eyes and concentrated on making her body move by itself, magic surrounding her form. Distantly she could hear Greez swearing on the intercom and Cere reprimanding him for distracting Merrin. She smiled as she opened her eyes, the field of stars surrounding her.

Merrin brought up a hand, and with a deft movement of her fingers the fighter's canopy started to screech open, the internal pressure slowly equalizing with the atmosphere of the _Mantis_.

What she saw inside was shocking enough to provoke a sharp intake of breath: The Second Sister laid in her seat, blood staining the dark fabrics of what remained of her uniform, her right arm gone. Her right _side_ , more accurately. From her upper shoulder, close to her neck, down to almost the start of her hips, there was now only a single inclined plane, partially cauterized. Merrin was quite surprised she was alive _at all._

From what Merrin could see the cauterization had broken in patches. Vivid red wounds opening to seep out blood, which with the lack of gravity generation in the craft, now floated slowly out.

One of the Second Sister's eyes slowly opened, and she let out a visible breath with how cold the interior of the fighter must have grown, most of its energy shunted towards keeping the ship afloat. She blinked once, and mumbled something unintelligible.

Merrin was spared any kind of awkward conversation they could have had by the fact that the Second Sister promptly lost consciousness again. With great effort, she enveloped the other woman with magic, and spying a heavy bag haphazardly slotted under the control panel, brought it along too.

She was in the middle of the way back towards the _Mantis_ , when she felt a sudden shift of the force right behind her, and had no time to think before the Interceptor jumped to life and made a quick but wavering complete turn, the backwash of the engines igniting shoving her and the Second Sister back inside. 

"Greez, get us out of here!" Merrin had only time to scream before it happened.

The world exploded in white, a brilliant trail of light extending from where the Interceptor had been to where it collided with a group of Star Destroyers as it accelerated to hyperspace.

* * *

The overcast clouds hanging in the dark purple sky cast long shadows over the stone courtyard. Trilla was not sure why she would manifest in this place—which she did not recognize—but she could only surmise that it was some sort of visualization of the force. Death wouldn't be so kind as to grant her release, it seemed.

There's no death, the Jedi said, only the force. Their survivors would likely find no comfort in knowing they were right all along. She doesn't consider herself a person who had ever believed in karma, but maybe it's true that she also didn't deserve a clean death. It would be entirely too easy.

Taking a deep breath she slowly lowered herself to the floor, noting absently that her right arm was missing. The _will of the force_ , she scoffs, who would have thought that the force would have willed for her to be tormented by all her past failures? And present as well. Failing to pass into the force was a novel way to spend the rest of eternity. 

Trilla felt an ironic laugh bubble out of her, but stopped abruptly as she grasped with the truth of her situation. She would never see Cere again. Would never see any of her friends. She still had a _consciousness_ , but even death was not enough to alleviate the deep well of anguish inside her soul.

Maybe it was nothing that she didn't deserve. A coward, a traitor. A monster. It was easy to imagine the things she had done in the name of the Inquisition, of the Empire, as things she had done to survive. But sitting here, at the end of all things for her… She couldn't help but feel the empty void of the promise of a better future. For her and for all the others like her.

Corrupted, reshaped into tools for the Empire's use. Trilla was just the last to crack. What deplorable achievement, that. To be the last to succumb, when her acquiescence could have saved so many others.

She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. No, no… It was folly to think that, too. The Empire, the Inquisition, they would never have stopped any of it if she had given in earlier.

She was just a failure at everything she had ever tried to be. That she had ever been expected to be. A failed Jedi, caving to torture to turn to the dark side. A failed Sith, for wanting the warmth embrace of love even after years in the dark.

That was something neither Jedi or Sith had ever really confronted, she realized, now. Their failure of understanding love. Jedi adored to preach love as a sacrosanct thing, to be understood as purely selfless. Unconditional love, they said, was purely of the light. But in the same breath they would turn it into a lesson. Love too much, love too deeply, and the dark side would consume you.

The Sith, in turn, had never understood love either, but in a different way. Lust was passion to them, and passion was a conduit to the dark side. But love? Love was a weakness. Love was the expression of losing control over your power for the sake of others.

Trilla's laughter was a hollow, lost thing, as she thought of all the stray, anguished souls that had followed either principle. Including herself.

She had been a student of the light, of the Jedi, blinded to all other forms of teachings by a tradition that insisted nothing else could come to understand the force as it had. And a student of the dark, an acolyte of the Sith, deep in the despair of the lack of choice.

There would have been no returning from the dark, she acknowledged, that much the Jedi were right about. But not because the dark was inescapable. There would be no returning from the dark if the only thing you were taught your whole life was that there simply was no returning from it. It was a vicious cycle.

Countless Jedi, countless Sith, all following the same narrow, inadequate teachings, for millennia. It was no wonder Darksiders always behaved the way they did, no wonder they came to believe the only path to take from their fall was cruelty. The Jedi had never taught them anything else.

She shook her head. It was not like she had been immune from it. She had thought, herself, that there was no escaping the dark side. It was not like being addicted, not really. The dark side was simply the other side of a spectrum, something else the Jedi simply had never considered. The cruelty of the Sith, however… Now that was a different matter entirely.

Cruelty didn't breed cruelty, but it was the form in which their control was established through cruelty which had an addictive quality to it, to people that had entirely too much power in a galaxy out of control. It was very easy to believe oneself above any sense of morality when you could control reality itself with their minds.

It was too easy to believe oneself's power to be a mark of their merit to control. And that is where the Sith found their dominance. In the end, they failed exactly for the same reason as the Jedi, they would never truly understand love. And all for what? To extend this meager existence in this tormented galaxy.

Trilla had lost any hope for the universe a long time ago now. Any and all hope had been stripped from her soul the day she had been captured by the Empire. Anything that had been left she had destroyed herself.

"It's a sad path, the one you walk, stranger."

The voice startled her, she didn't think... But no, no. If she was dead… If she was dead then she was in the force.

"No, stop being silly, of course you're not dead!"

The voice sounded again, and it was only with much effort that she realized that her eyes were closed. And, with as much effort, she slowly opened them. What greeted her was simply nothing but a shade, a faint green thing, just shy of being completely invisible.

"It's just a sad way to protect yourself, you know, denying yourself hope." It's a woman's voice, and she has an interminably sad smile on her pallid quasi-translucent face.

"And what do you know of it, shade?" Trilla huffs back, mouth contorting as the shade's smile only widens, "What know you of my life?"

"Oh, I don't know much, that's true enough," The shade replies, her smile turning melancholic, "No, I don't know about you too much, but I know someone that has felt quite the same."

Trilla blinked, and that was enough time, it seemed, for the shade to be seated across from her, legs crossed. "You're not dead yet, you know."

"Hmm," Trilla hummed, eyes falling to the clouds again, before returning to the shade's face, "So you have said."

"Ah, well, you're linked to someone else, now. That's how I got in your dream to begin with," The shade grinned, a bright, if ethereal, green smile, "I was haunting the dreams of another, yes. I'm not ready to go anywhere else quite yet, but she carries me in her dreams, and so here am I."

The shade extended a hand, carefully, looking so deeply into her eyes that Trilla can't help but advert hers for a moment, ashamed of what the shade could see in them, "You don't have to stay here, you know. You could walk into the door."

And the shade was right. It was enough for her to mention it and Trilla could see the door appear at the end of the courtyard, golden against the setting sun's light.

"Oh… I see." The shade blinks, "You have no idea what is on the other side of that door, do you?"

Trilla ground her teeth, entirely too tired of the force's cryptic nonsense. This had been her entire life, riddles upon riddles, about power, about the truth. _From a certain point of view,_ Master Yoda had said once. She now knew a way to escape the truth when she saw one.

"No, no I have no idea what could possibly be beyond that door, and frankly I don't know why I should bother. Will it answer my questions?"

The shade seemed puzzled for a moment, bringing her delicate transparent hand to her chin as if in thought, "Not _all_ of them." She answered honestly.

"If I'm not dead, then…" Trilla looked away, heart beating rapidly in her chest for the first time in a long time, it felt like. In fear, in apprehension. In relief. "Then what am I."

"Now, that's a question you will have to answer for yourself, I think." Another brief grin flashed over the shade's face, "And well, that's something you will have to be awake for."

Trilla stood up, her body floating as if in water. The door opened, slowly, as if knowing her answer.

"Who are you?" Trilla asked the shade, who just smiled, before closing her eyes.

"Someone else's memory." She said, before disappearing.

Nothing else stood in her path, now. And with courage she did not entirely believe she really had, Trilla started walking towards the door, the interior light blossoming into a miniature sun.

"Death, yet the force," She said to herself, the words of old echoing strangely inside her own head. _No._ Death _and_ the Force.

Her first steps inside the bright light of the door seemed to last forever, her foot landing into something else only after an entire age had slowly passed. She closed her eyes, and when she opened then again she was in an animated festival of some kind, women clad in reds and blacks and whites and purples celebrating with vigor and vim. Happy sounds, of life, of love, of laughter.

Two small girls played among the crowd, jumping and dancing and smiling to one another. She felt only deep sorrow, here, and it was not a moment too soon when the scene shifted, the same girls again, older now.

She felt like an interloper, watching the girls grow in life and in love, their smiles growing sweeter to one another as they saw the world change around them.

The scene shifted one last time, then, and she knew they're all dead. Her love is dead, she could feel it, and when she looked to her hands, their pale white color is marred by the blood of her sisters. Of her love. And anger, her rage, is only tampered by her anguish, her despair. She will yet have her revenge and—

She's standing in the sun, then. The tall spire at her back casts a long shadow on the ground. In the distance she can see the snowy caps and beautiful mountains. She sees a woman kneeling in front of a small child, and she knows that this is definitively _not_ where she wants to be.

She can't help but let her attention drift to the scene in front of her, her small form looking to Cere's smiling face, the shining presence of the force as they stand in the hills of Alderaan.

She was born here, she knows, but she doesn't remember her family at all, anymore. Even their faces are a blur in this memory.

"Hello?" A sweet voice calls out, and the illusion shatters so suddenly even Trilla has trouble realizing where she is at all, a black void, a dead youngling lying on the torture table in front of her. And to her side, one of the girls that had been playing in her vision, clad in red and black.

Trilla's emotions are spiralling out of control, she can feel, the anguish of the past, the pain of the present. The fear of the future. The girl, a woman now, looked deeply into her eyes, and carefully takes hold of her hand.

"Wake up," The woman said. And she did.

* * *

She felt a brief lurch in the ship's gravity, marking the jump to hyperspace.

Warmth started blossoming into her chest, and Merrin was bewildered by it for a moment before looking down and realizing that it was blood seeping from the Second Sister's small constellation of open wounds on her cauterized side.

"At least I'm wearing red, hmm?" Merrin hummed, her voice almost inaudible.

"Merrin?" Cere asked, having come up behind her while Merrin still struggled with extricating herself from the Second Sister without disturbing her wounds further, "Can you heal her?"

"Hmm," Merrin's face bore a frown as she studied the wounds and the cauterization, "Yes." She asserted, nodding rapidly, "Yes, I believe I can. I will need a clean space, and some supplies." Merrin nodded to the gnarly-looking cauterization, clearly opening in places, "Plasma wounds need their cauterization removed, as you are no doubt aware, but I can certainly help in closing it once it is clean."

Cere nodded sharply, her lips folded in a clear sign that she had been holding down tears, "Yes, thank you that's—" She cuts herself off, clearing her throat, "I can't express how relieved I am that she is here, I understand that we may have a disagreement over, and that's not even talking about Cal's opinion, but I wanted to reassure you that I'll responsibilize myself for anyth—" She's not given a chance to continue, as Merrin holds a hand up before taking a hold of Cere's.

"Do not worry, Master Jedi," She nods to the Second Sister, "Of all of us, here, I'm perhaps the one that knows the most how precious a life recovered, a life brought back can really be." 

Cere just nods again, tears finally escaping her control, "Alright, alright, enough wallowing. Let's get her to my bunk," She says, rising to walk towards the emergency medical stretcher on the first aid kit of the _Mantis_.

They move quickly, then. Merrin held the Second Sister's body as Cere carefully loaded her, limb by limb, into the stretcher. Taking the lift to the underside of the engineering section, pausing so Cere can put a biological shield blanket over her bunk so they can safely, and gently, lower the wounded force user into it.

After all's said and done, Cere all but collapses at her apprentice's side. A small sob finally bubbling to the surface.

Merrin felt like an intruder.

She left swiftly after, heading back towards the main deck, taking the service ladder to the engineering section, and briefly checkin up on Cal, who, against all odds, seemed only slightly worse for wear. Only a mild power exhaustion. Well, force exhaustion, she imagined the Jedi called it.

She nodded to Greez, who was keeping watch over the boy, BD-1 sitting at the end of the bed.

She moved to the kitchenette, pulling from the cabinets some of the ingredients she had brought aboard with her. A noise pulled her from the concentration of measuring a small cup of herbs to add to boiling water, Greez having made himself known, a small, awkward smile playing on his large lips.

"Am I, err, am I interrupting?" He asked, inclining his head towards the collection of small containers above the countertop, "Whatever's going on there smells _delicious"_ , He says, closing his eyes, his nostrils flaring slightly.

"I am preparing some specialist poisons which blind and then render the afflicted with terrible dreams," Merrin saids, casually, turning to smile at Greez when he almost wheezed in a haste of expelling all the air from his lungs, "I am joking! Don't worry, it is nothing more than simple brews to help our crew in various ways."

"Well, uhh," Greez gulped, eyes wide, "Anything I can help in with?"

"As a matter of fact, yes!" Merrin chirped, happily sliding a heavy orange stone mortar towards the empty side of the counter, alongside a small container, "There. You need to grind the _ithumsu_ so I can add it to the water."

Greez was hesitant at first, approaching the kitchenette slowly, but once he took another good scent of the smells lingering about he was quick to pull up his sleeves and get to work.

They don't talk at first, Greez diligently grinding the small, green and hardened flowers into a fine powder, but it was not long before the normally chatty man started making some small talk.

"Real wild stuff back on Nur, huh," He murmured, voice low, "Not a lot of people capable of making a hyperspace ram out of a half destroyed fighter like that."

"Yes, the Second Sist—Ah, _Trilla_ can be very… Destructive, when she wants to be, hmm?" Merrin acknowledged, using Cere's chosen name for her student, "Is that what that was then? It's no small wonder you planet hoppers don't just set fire to the entire universe if a small error can cause this much destruction."

"Ah, well! It's really not that simple at all," Greez expounded, picking up some enthusiasm now that he had a solid stance on a subject he was more familiar with, "It's really just incredibly difficult to make something like that happen with any degree of reliability, _or_ precision. You gotta disengage hyperdrive safeties, then prime the main generator to fire off a tachyon pulse to accelerate the ship close to lightspeed so it can pierce hyperspace, but _not_ enough that the ship actually goes through," He nodded to the ceiling, where the blue hues of a hyperspace tunnel shimmer over the _Mantis_ , "And then on top of all that you still have to hit a very small target velocity to give enough mass to the ship _and_ do it from the correct distance, otherwise you're just going to pancake your vessel on your target with really no boom to show for your efforts."

"Ah." Merrin blinked, Greez enthusiasm lifting her lips in a small smile, "That does seem exceedingly complicated, yes."

"And illegal!" Greez laughed, but quickly sobers up again, a concerned look on his face, "Well, it's not really like we can get _more_ wanted by the Empire, eh? Ha!"

"That's true enough. At least they really have no identification on me yet," Merry said, her smile turning mischievous as she looked to Greez.

"Heh, someone after my own heart!" Greez smiled back, two hands coming to pat Merrin on the back, "I didn't use to be such a slippery fellow, now, But—Well, It's been a long time, and I don't fancy becoming scrap for the Empire."

"What did you do, Greez?" Merrin asked, "Before all this Jedi business, I mean."

"Ah, well, that's," Greez paused, a pensive look on his face, "I was a smuggler mostly, for a long time really. Not a bad job, paid the bills, made me a little richer as the years went by," He nodded to the terrarium in front of them, "Used to smuggle a lot of plant based stuff, really, that's how I got the money to buy the _Mantis_ ," He looked back to Merrin, eyes soft, "And what about you, kid? Heh, before you set about an army of dead on my ship!" He let out a small laugh, before smiling awkwardly again.

Merrin could smile at that, now. She felt freer with her life than she had felt in a very long time. And so she does, she smiled at Greez, a little knowingly, "I was a witch, of course," She nodded decidedly.

Greez's anticipation is what prompted her to continue. Merrin sighed, she knew that he would not ask directly, but there was no reason she would not tell anyone of her past, now.

"I grew up in this small village on the northern Abul mountain range, very close to that temple you parked the ship next to," She stirred the small pot of boiling liquid some more, before taking a deep breath, "It was just after the celebration of my nineteenth name-day when he came, the armored man," She could feel Greez's energy dampen, a shocked flash of guilt, "He killed my sisters. He killed my love," Merrin shook her head, dispelling the thoughts for the moment, "There was very little of me left on that planet for a very long time, after."

"Kid, I'm—" Greez stopped, puts on hand over her shoulder, "I'm sorry for saying anything, alright?"

"It's nothing you have done, Greez Dritus." Merrin smiled at the man, "I have saved myself."

"Heh, yeah, you're pretty strong on the whole self-reliance thing, kid, gotta admit."

"Hmm," She acquiesced, "And besides, much as I believe the Jedi would deny, a little revenge is all you need, sometimes."

Greez gave a knowing nod, before finishing with the mortar, settling the pestle aside, "Here, all ground up!" Greez said, sliding the mortar back to Merrin, who promptly picked it up and threw it into the boiling water, where it foamed for a moment before blending in completely, "And what kind of, heh, _witchy brews_ did I help you make?"

Merrin brought the boiling pot out of the burner, setting two small cups before her and Greez, and promptly emptying the contents of the pot inside them.

"Tea," She said, smiling.

They were interrupted by Cere, who came into the lounge almost scuffing her feet on the ground, her presence deeply exhausted. She flopped on the sofa, laying the holocron on the center table before allowing her eyes to close briefly. It felt like no time at all before they all heard slight grunts coming from the direction of Cal's bunk.

"Ah, the kid must be waking up, I'll go get him," Greez exclaimed, shuffling quickly out of the lounge.

Merrin sat down at the edge of the sofa, gaze drifting onto nothing, teacup forgotten on the countertop. Her rumminations were short-lived, however, as she suddenly heard Greez's raised voice.

"Woah, hold on! Wait a minute!"

Cal came limping out into the lounge, and Merrin was so overcome with happiness that she couldn't contain herself, launching from the sofa for a hug. He was clearly hurt, however, so she dropped him again, before taking a step back, "Sorry," She said, looking awkwardly to the floor before bringing her gaze back to the boy's face.

Cal was smiling at her, "That was you in the water, wasn't it?"

Merrin nodded, a small smile blossoming on her features once again, "I'm glad you're okay," she turned to Greez, who still hovered over Cal like a mother tooka, "This one wouldn't leave your side."

Cal smiled down at Greez, who only offered a shrug and an awkward head tilt. And then Cal was looking back to her, expression turning serious before nodding to her, "Thank you."

Merrin only nodded back, a small smile playing on her lips.

Cal went to Cere, then, approaching her with caution before sitting to her side. They greeted each other hesitantly, radiating almost palpable incredulity over their continued survival.

"So now what?" Greez asked, his four arms raised in question.

Merrin sat down at the edge of the sofa, her attention drifting every so often to the holocron resting on the table.

"Well, captain," Cere said, turning to Greez with a serious countenance, "This is the end of my charter," She said, a wistful almost-there smile on her face, "Your contract has been fulfilled," Her face turned serious again, "Thank you, Greez."

"Well, if it's all the same to you, I was thinking that maybe I would stick around here and…" Greez paused, moving to sit on the sofa, taking a good look at all of them, "Take you wherever you gotta go."

He inclines his head towards Cere, almost whispering, a clear undercurrent of mischievousness on his next words, "Besides, uh... Kid kind of looks up to me."

She could feel their uncertainty, still. Their furtive glances at the holocron, clearly the most pressing matter in all their minds.

"What about that?" She asked, at last, as the silence had stretched for a second too long. She was unsure about the holocron, quite a feat of divination, to be able to sense force sensitive children into the future. But she still stood by what she had said to Cal. Only ruin would come of this.

Cere was the first to say anything, her face showing surprise that they had really finished their mission, alongside a minute flash of uncertainty. "We use it," she said, looking at all of them in turn, but she seemed skeptical of her own words even as she said them, "To rebuild the Jedi Order."

Cal grasped the holocron, sending a faint pulse of the force towards it, which seemed to be enough to awaken the device, which expanded and assembled into the projection of a starmap.

"The next generation of Jedi…" Merrin said, frowning.

"The Empire will be after 'em," Greez voiced her unspoken thoughts, voice growing despondent, "Just like they're after us.

"The lives of every child on that list _will_ be forever changed," Cere agreed.

Cal was already shaking his head, "Not by us," He said, looking at Cere, who nodded in agreement, "Their destiny should be trusted to the force." He looked at her, some understanding passing between them. He knew what she thought of it.

Cal unclasped his lightsaber, and in a swift move cut the holocron in two, the disassembled pieces falling down to the table with grave finality.

"So, where to now?" He asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

They all looked back to him from where the holocron was still smoldering over the table, Cere's lips thinning in thought, "Cal…" She began, hand moving to grip his shoulder, bringing him down with her to sit on the sofa, "There's something you need to know."

Meerin shared a faint grimace with Greez, who pursed his lips and looked back at her with raised eyebrows, he nodded towards Cere and Cal, before hopping off the sofa in the direction of engineering, clearly a plan in mind.

"After Merrin rescued us on Nur," She began, hand drifting down to hold his own, "I had a sudden vision on the force, right as we were leaving the atmosphere, and on the way out we paused to collect—" She took a breath, steadying herself, "We recovered Trilla."

He was somber, nodding his head. Reality clearly not having sunken in yet. That's when they all heard a pained groan from the underdeck.

Cal jumped to his feet, his eyes wide, "Oh, you mean she's here _now?!_ Oh force." He promptly fell back again, breath almost leaving his body as he stared shell shocked at each of them in tow.

Cere looked at Merrin, concerned expression still firmly in place, before nodding towards engineering, implication clear, "Merrin would you mind…"

"Of course," Merrin answered, sending a small, awkward smile towards Cal as she left Cere to explain the situation, and nodded briefly to Greez's who was coming back, a bottle of something strong, alcoholic and _decidedly_ green on his hands.

Taking the service ladder down, she arrived on the undercroft to small whimpers of pain and grunts of effort. The Second Sister was tossing and turning, and that, in turn, had opened even more wounds on her side.

Sighing, Merrin rested a hand over the other woman's feverish brow, a small green pulse of magic broadcasting a small command to _rest_.

With a twist of her hands, Merrin slowly turned the Second Sister on to a more stable position, her movements twitchy slowly fading out and her face relaxing once again.

Merrin went to sleep, then, her own bunk an inviting visage after this long, _long_ day. She hadn't realized how tired she really was until she decided to rest. As soon as her head hit the pillow she had fallen into a dream.

She's was youngling, standing over the railing of the Jedi Archives, many a knight roaming the floors below as her Master, a smile on her face, expounded about different cultures and—

She's was in a desert, her Master in front of her as they lead the 297th Recovery Squadron towards a protected ancient Jedi ruin, Commander Ruyot silently marching their troops just behind them as they sneak by a Separatist holdout—

She was on Ilum, her Master had volunteered to take a class of younglings to their gathering. The clones are closing in, likely having already found their location, it was just a matter of time before they found the entrance to this cave. Wrassee clung to her as Master Cere turned to leave. Maybe she would succeed in drawing the attention of the clones, and they would be able to—

She was strapped to a table, electricity surged through her body as she screams, and screams, and screams, and—

A deep breath.

She felt like herself again, Merrin. She repeated her name in her own head, clinging to her own identity as the strong vision she had just bore witness to washed over.

She was standing on a sterile ship deck, large windows dominating the room. The crew cowers at their posts while she stands tall, dressed in the same black as the void, her eyes glued to the viewport as she stared at the planet below. She knows, somehow, that Lord Vader had descended into the Inquisitorius, but he should be back any moment now with the Holocron the Second Sister had located.

That was Merrin's last thought before she felt a disturbance, almost as if she could sense an approaching thunderstorm, and a moment later she saw a tall man. Dressed all in black standing in the place she had been occupying just moments before, face covered by a mask. He is cut in half by a ray of bright light, the ship slowly coming undone between them, and she knows this is what the Second Sister had planned. These were the results of the hyperspace ram that Greez had described. The white trail passing just in front of her face shifted, and as she went to touch it—

She was someplace else, then. A long, long shadow stretched over the ground, a deep snowy valley, patches of too-green grass coming out in places where the snow melted on the high sun. There were glints of light coming from the mountains around her, and she knew it was snow on the high peaks. There was a woman, just in front of her, kneeling by a small child.

The moment in which she recognized that the woman is Cere, is the moment she could feel a presence not a few paces from where she stood. Their soul so marred by despair and hopelessness she almost swayed on the spot.

It was the Second Sister, she realized, as the person turned to look at the woman still crouched in front of the child. With a start she understood that the child, too, was Trilla Suduri.

"Hello?" She called, but as soon as her voice sounded into the dream, it shattered. Like broken glass melting into a blank void, she felt a shift. She blinked, and—

Suddenly the all-encompassing darkness surrounding her was as oppressive as a cloud, a young rodian child was strapped to a table, their cries a breaking point to the stillness of the room. In front of them, on her knees, and in tears, Trilla Suduri stood with blood on her hands.

She understood then. She could feel all this Empire had done, the rivers of blood it had wrought. What torment it had created for people like her, and Cal. and Trilla. Pity bubbled inside her heart, for all the people who had fallen into this trap, compassion for the way they had. She had too, in her own way.

She dropped to her knees, the low thud of her knee guards impacting the ground. She extended her arms, and cupped Trilla's hands delicately with her own. The other woman looked into her eyes, then, lips trembling as her brow furrow, she held a look of almost recognition. Her pain was so sharp it cut at Merrin, the blood in Trilla's hand flowing over their joined hands, a wellspring.

"Wake up" She said. And they did.

* * *

Trilla woke slowly. The first thought on her mind was that she should've woken in a jolt. But instead she woke with the sound of the sea playing in her mind, dry tear tracks on her cheeks, deep breaths beside her.

She turned her head to the side, and across the small gap of a passageway—on what she could recognize as a bunk on the opposite side—Merrin stared at her, looking completely lost. Trilla gasped in recognition.

"Oh, the angel," She let out, almost involuntarily, before closing her mouth shut with force, her cheeks reddening.

The other woman's eyes locked into hers as they focus, a tender, sorrowful smile touching her lips. Merrin—and how eerie it is to know so many personal and intimate things about someone and yet have never spoken to them before—slowly came to a sitting position on the bunk, before standing up.

"I'm Merrin," She said, her eyes a deep, compassionate black, "Thought I rather think you already know that."

Still very flustered at her faux pas, Trilla dipped her head before responding, "Yes, I remember you from earlier. You can call me Se—" She stopped herself, abruptly. No, that name wouldn't fit her anymore, hadn't fit her in a long time. "You can call me Trilla. You were the one to rescue me, were you not?"

The woman across from her nodded, and then proceeded to walk over to her bunk, sitting on it carefully so as to not disturb Trilla's injuries. Her eyes hadn't strayed from staring back at Trilla's, not for a moment.

"Why do you look at me so?" Trilla finally asked, her throat feeling dry like she had not felt in a long time.

"We have a connection, you and I," Merrin said, her expression turning serious.

Trilla's cheeks reddened at the attention, but she couldn't deny the truth. They were linked, she now was certain, a bond stronger than any she had forged in the past, a solid presence in the back of her mind.

"That is…" She wetted her lips, "That is true, yes, we…" She shook her head, trying to dispel the sensations of things she had never lived, "Forgive me for the nightmares they're not—" She cut herself again, taking a deep breath. Trilla couldn't help but feel like she was blundering headlong into an explanation she felt entirely too ill-suited to give. "I did not mean to disturb," She said, hand thumbing her cape clasps, "Truthfully, I did not think there would be… That there would be anyone left to disturb."

Merrin's eyes closed, and she took a deep breath herself, before she laid her hand softly atop Trilla's, "Don't worry, we are on our way to a safer place," Her brow furrowed in concern, "But it would be best if you slept more."

Trilla was too electrified, now. Too alert to go back to sleep. The pain was manageable, she had studied the dark side too long to not have become accustomed to pain, but the thoughts running through her head…

She couldn't stay here, she needed to—Frankly she didn't know what she needed to do, but even the bond to the other woman could immediately calm her mind, and with Cere gone—

She needed to meditate, that was it, she needed to do _something._

"No need," she said, closing her eyes for a moment before she tried to get up, letting out a small scream of pain in the process. She had underestimated how astonishingly painful her injury felt.

There was a brief commotion, hurried steps grew closer, a hand rested on her shoulder, which she tried to shrug off, before an intimately familiar voice spoke, "Trilla?"

She felt her heart shatter, a deep well of grief in her soul. That was her Master's voice. She looked up, tracing the form from the ground until she reached her face.

"C-Cere?" She murmured, lips trembling. She hadn't realized she was crying, but now she could feel the tears rolling down her face. She fell forward, any pain she could have felt numbed by the sensation of her Master's arms.

It was only after having cried herself dry, that the sobs slowly subsided as Cere continued to stroke her hair, telling her _it was going to be alright_. She believed her, for the first time in a long time.

"How are you—" Her voice failed her, her dry mouth making it all the more difficult to speak, "How are you still alive?"

"Hmm, well," Cere said, the same pensive tone from when she wanted to gather her thoughts to tell a story, "When Vader threw me in the pit of lava," She continued, face uncharacteristically curled into a snarl, "Well, there was something keeping me alive, wasn't there." She nods to Trilla.

"I—" Trilla managed to stop herself, taking a deep breath, "I was so angry at you for so long."

"Yes," Cere agreed, her eyes downcast, "You had every right."

"But that doesn't justify any of what I did, not after, well..."

"When Vader killed you," Cere interrupted, a pang of despair shown clearly on her face, "I could not think of anything else but to avenge you. I prayed for you, as Cal and that monster left the room, I prayed over your body. I prayed that I wouldn't have to be strong enough to outlive you."

"I'm here," Trilla felt she had to say, but Cere just shaked her head.

"I thought I had lost you," Cere said, eyes welling up with tears, and her voice choked with grief, "I thought I had lost you and the only thing left in my mind was the will to kill that monster, and I was going to," Cere laughed, but it was a bitter laugh, lost, "I would've killed him if Cal hadn't stopped me, but you know, I don't think I would've regretted falling to the dark side then."

"It would have been a noble way to fall," Trilla said, a plaintive expression on her face.

"Maybe," Cere responded, but she shot a concerned look at Trilla, "You know I've forgiven you a long time ago, don't you?"

Trilla huffed a laugh, despondent, "Maybe," She repeated, "But I didn't expect to live long enough to ever regret my mistakes. I was quite content to march to my death, then. I'm…" She sighed, "I'm lost."

"You've got time, now," Cere said, her voice low, "Time enough to figure it out."

"The torture, the conditioning," Trilla said, and Cere flinched at the memories, "It wasn't enough to break me, in the end, they tried so hard…" She shook her head, "I was foolish in thinking I could ever escape this."

Her head laid on Cere's lap, Trilla let her eyes wander the small space she found herself in, for the first time. She could see her bag laying against the wall. With some effort she lifted her arm towards the bag, but she couldn't use the force.

"And now, even the force has left me," she whispered.

"You suffered great trauma, Trilla," Cere said, her voice too compassionate to Trilla's bitter ears, "It's been known to happen."

"I have a connection to the Wit—" She cut herself off and let her bitterness, her powerlessness subside for the moment, "To Merrin."

"A force bond?" Cere asked, curious.

"Hmm," Trilla confirmed, as her energy started to flag, suddenly feeling more tired than she had in a long time.

"Come on," Cere said, as she carefully moved Trilla to be able to stand, "Let's get you to bed."

With very small movements, Cere helped her slowly to her bunk. She smoothed out the biological shield blanket against the material of the bunk bed as she helped Trilla settle on it.

"Will you stay?" Trilla hated that her voice trembled. She felt so small, injured, cut off from the force. And yet, all self-hatred would pale in comparison to any comfort her Master could provide.

"Always."

She fell asleep again, the steady presence of her Master a blanket of solace to her weary soul. She didn't dream again.

* * *

Merrin took a couple of hours to settle into meditation, which left her rested enough. It wasn't as good as sleep, really, but it would sustain her for the time being.

When she reached the cockpit, Cal and Greez were at the controls, and the _Mantis_ was still in hyperspace.

She loitered around for a bit, looking over their shoulders, Cal had his eyes closed, his lightsaber floating in front of him. Greez had a holonet browser open to a huttball game.

She cleared her throat, clasping her hands behind her back, "The patient is awake."

That seemed to disturb Cal, who lost his concentration, his lightsaber clattering to the transparisteel below.

"Hey, watch it, kid!" Greez bellowed, attention straying from the game for a moment, "If that thing had turned on we'd have a lot of other problems to deal with."

"Sorry, Greez," Cal said, his cheeks reddening, "I'm fine, sorry, sorry."

Merrin hid a smile behind her hand, taking the opportunity to sit down on the communications station.

"We're getting ready to exit hyperspace," Greez said, hands flying over the controls as he closed the holographic screen containing the huttball game, "So strap in, kids."

Their egress into realspace was as jarring as Merrin always found it to be, as if the world ceased to exist for a long, uncomfortable moment, before snapping right back into place. She didn't know if that was a unique feature of her magic, or if that is something unique to her physiology. Either way it made hyperspace jumping uncomfortable, but not enough so that she would refuse to do it. She hoped it would simply come to pass with time.

They dropped close to a beautiful green and blue world, sparse clouds covering its surface.

Greez held the intercom receiver button, and announced, "Making final approach to Dantooine." He released the button once again, turning to Cal and Merrin, "I've got a safehouse here, nothing fancy, really, but it should do for the time being."

"We will need help to deal with… Trilla's wounds," Merrin said, a contemplative look on her face, "I do not know enough about lightsaber wounds to be able to do intricate magic work, but I can heal it once it is clean."

"Ah, don't worry about it," Greez said, waving his hands, "I'm a… Well, I'm a certified first responder, got some medical training," He continued, the last part almost out of the corner of his mouth, and Merrin could recognize the desire to not speak of something when she saw it, so she carefully did not ask him where he had learned that.

"Really, Greez? Where did you get that?" Cal asked, apparently unconcerned in ignoring social cues.

"Uh… I was first responder pilot for the Republic before the Clone Wars," Greez whispered, an almost vacant look on his face, "Got out of that to go into shipping, though," He continued, his mood picking up again, "Aaaand _that's_ how I got into smuggling."

Cal looked a bit awkward, having realized where his line of questioning led, "Huh," was the only thing he said.

They descend into Dantooine's atmosphere, Merrin marvelling at the beautiful plains and the blue seas. After a moment of descent, the _Mantis_ started inclining towards a deep valley, a river running through it, and—once they started flying closer to ground—a small house in the middle of a forest.

Greez brought them down slowly, the _Mantis_ setting comfortably in the landing pad behind the house.

She got up, patting her tunic, and was about to leave when Cal interrupted her exit, "I don't blame her, you know."

Merrin stopped, slowly turning back towards Cal, who flushed slightly before continuing, "I mean, that's not right," he paused, thinking carefully, "I don't think I can ever forgive her for killing Prauf, or, well, any of the innocent people she killed," His mouth set, Cal closed his eyes once again, "But I can be civil to her and I… Well, I have some idea of what she went through."

She left him to his meditation, then, and made the small walk back towards the _Mantis_ undercroft. Trilla and Cere were already awake, and at work on Trilla's clothes. They had removed her cape, but had taken care to not move the underlayers. Her side had stopped bleeding, but it still looked incredibly painful.

"We have arrived," Merrin said, her voice disrupting Cere's work in cutting the imperial patch from what remained of the cloak. Cere looked at her, standing up to retrieve the emergency medical stretcher so they could move Trilla.

"Thanks, Merrin," she said, nodding to her as she walked back towards engineering.

"She's lucky that she needs to cut only one," Trilla said, a small smile on her face as she indicated her missing arm.

Merrin couldn't help herself, with the warm and amused sensation flowing through their bond, and let a small giggle escape. Trilla only smiled wider, her back at rest against the wall of her bunk.

"You shouldn't joke about such matters," Merrin said, after her brief giggle fit had subsided, "Cere would find it distasteful."

"Cere would get angry about it," Trilla answered, her smile turning sideways, "Which's why I told the joke to _you_ , I knew…" She paused, thoughts running over something, "I knew you would find it funny."

"You knew right, then," Merrin confirmed, smile turning indulgent at Trilla's words. Far be it for her to bring to attention the other woman's suffering. She could tell, through their bond, that Trilla was deeply aware of her injuries, but the levity she sought to impart to others was as much a defense mechanism as it was the truth.

Trilla just hummed in agreement, 

"You have always been one to take to levity in times like… These," Merrin started, before trailing off. It was exceptionally strange to know the life of someone like you had lived it yourself.

She was saved from explaining herself by the arrival of Cere, back with the stretcher. It was a quick affair for Merrin to carefully use her magic to lift Trilla into it, though there was still some fumbling, before they were back on the engineering elevator.

They passed by the lounge and the terrarium, Trilla taking note of her surroundings for the first time. As they approached the main door, Merrin spotted Greez leaning against the wall, a markedly disinterested look on his face.

"Cal's already out and about, got BD-1 with him to explore the place a bit," He said, "Found the old composite fabricator I had rigged on the place a decade ago, now, so we might be able to make something out of it," pushing himself out of the wall, Greez nodded to the stretcher, "I've got the safehouse unlocked, so it should all open for you fine, but let me know if there's something else that's needed done."

"Thanks, Greez," Cere said, a slight smile on her face.

He exited the ship, a small bag on his hands, "You don't have to pretend you're sleeping, you know," An amused Cere stated to the unmoving form of her wayward apprentice, once Greez had disappeared into the safehouse.

Trilla responded by simply opening one eye, "I'm not very good with apologies," She stated, pursing her lips for a moment, "And I would prefer to be in less pain to properly apologise to all of your crew, I…" She was somewhat irritated, and visibly made an effort to stop herself from continuing before taking a deep breath, "Maybe I was never very good at it but… I will try."

"Thank you," Cere replied.

They went down the ramp, the backdoor of the house opening automatically to them, and inside they found a large, sparsely decorated, room.

The dining table which occupied one of its corners was elected to stand as a surgery table, and Greez went directly to sterilize it alongside a small emergency field surgery kit he had brought along from the _Mantis._

Merrin was about to leave to make herself useful and kill some time by preparing the place for their living, when Trilla held out her hand, "Wait! I, uh, well…" She licked her lips, and Merrin could tell from their bond that she was unsure of how to continue, "Could you stay with me?" she asked, "Please."

Merrin's smile was gentle as she turned back towards Trilla, taking the woman's hand in hers, "Of course," she said. They stood there, side by side while Cere and Greez prepared everything.

"Trilla," Cere said, as she came to stand besides the stretcher, "We're ready to start the procedure," she explained.

"It will be a simple matter of cleaning the scarring and searing from the cauterization so I can hopefully heal you," Merrin added, feeling a faint tremor of fear through the bond. She squeezed Trilla's hand, a reassuring smile on her lips, "Then we'll install the prosthetic socket, if the fabricator manages to make it."

"Could I…" Trilla swallowed, as her lips started to tremble. She avoided looking at either Cere or Merrin, gaze falling to the floor, "Could I have an anesthetic?"

Merrin blinked, controlling her breath for a moment. The flashes of hurt that subconsciously had been leaking through the bond made more sense now, but Merrin feared that if she was to look away from Trilla's face for even a moment she would be drowned in a painful memory.

"Of course you can," Merrin said, before even Cere could reassure Trilla, "You won't feel anymore pain, if I have anything to say about it."

Cere sucked in a sharp breath, the reality of what they were avoiding speaking about clearly a truth she knew well, "I've got a nullicaine hypospray that came with the field surgery kit," she said, bringing the aforementioned hypospray to bear, "It should cause a short loss of consciousness, but I'm afraid we really don't have any local anesthetics that would work for the size of the injury."

"No, no, that's fine," Trilla replied, once she had her breath under control again. Merrin felt their bond subside for a moment, Trilla clearly calming down from her near-panic, "Thank you, I just… Yes that is perfectly fine."

"Here it goes," Cere said, bringing the hypospray towards Trilla's neck, before she pressed the application button.

Trilla extended her hand again, grasping at Merrin, while her eyes went more and more unfocused. "Please, stay," she mumbled.

Merrin's mind was impacted by the dread Trilla was feeling, and after staring at the other woman's eyes for a moment, she leaned in, resting her lips on Trilla's forehead in a tender touch.

Trilla went out like a light.

Bringing up a focal light fixture to illuminate the operating table, Greez started the procedure, slowly and meticulously scraping and cutting any cauterization on the wounds. Merrin used her magic in the areas he had finished working on, steadily healing it to a state where skin had covered the previously bleeding wounds.

Cal had come in halfway through the procedure, BD-1 on his shoulders as he held a large box under his arm. In as much silence as he was probably able to muster, Cal walked towards the open kitchen and started to tinker with the box, which, as Merrin finished tending to the latest of the open wounds, became clear was the fabricator Greez had talked about.

Standing up at last, Merrin relaxed after almost an hour bent over the operating table. Greez had the same air of exhaustion after a job finished.

"It's not going to be _great_ combat grade stuff, at all," Cal said, as they approached the kitchen, hands patting the fabricator, "But BD-1 was able to interface with it to print out the parts for a civilian grade mechno-arm."

"That's impressive work, Cal," Merrin said, exhaustion coloring her words.

"Come on," Cal enthused, picking up the assembled prosthetic arm, before handing it to Greez, "You just need to install it."

Merrin sighed, "Yes, let's finish the job," she replied, "She should awake in a couple hours at most."

They worked in relative silence, Greez adhering the torso-to-shoulder prosthetic socket to Trilla, as Merrin worked to heal any leftover scar tissue.

When the work was finished, Cere was the one to take Trilla to the room she had prepared earlier. With Merrin's help she put Trilla on the bed, closing the blinds on the windows.

Merrin had worked already too much for one day, and having meditated for only a couple of hours earlier in the _Mantis,_ she decided to have an early night.

Her bond feeling strangely silent with Trilla's unconsciousness, Merrin drifted off to sleep. The nightmares she had were all her own.

* * *

When she opened her eyes, Trilla's first instinct was to escape the strange room she found herself in.

She grabbed the covers, tossing them to the side. She tried jumping to a standing position, but the pain flooded back like a shock through her spine.

She screamed as she extended her right hand to support herself against… The bed.

She looked at her right hand, her right _arm_. A gleaming black-coated metal weave mechno-arm, and a shoulder mount made to her body's specifications.

Trilla flexed her hands, and then ran then through the bedspread. She could feel the feedback of her fingers as they touched the soft material of the covers.

As she came down from the momentary panic of waking in an unknown environment, Trilla started looking around. She was in a bedroom, that much was clear, and it was still the middle of the night. The windows, located high in the walls, close to the ceiling, let the dim light of the moons in. She must still be in the place they entered earlier the afternoon. Cere had given her a small dose of nullicaine, which—assuming everything had gone to plan—meant she hadn't slept for very long.

A glint caught her eye. Down, by the foot of her bed was her old bag. Trilla closed her eyes, trying to visualize the room around her. _Let the force flow through you_ , she thought. She extended her hand, a flicker of a spark inside her, if she concentrated enough she—

The bag clattered to the floor.

Her hand banged against the bedside table, her fingers curled in a fist. Trilla let out a frustrated huff.

She crawled over her bed, slowly as to not disrupt the newly healed skin. She was keenly aware of how long a healing process in the force like hers would have taken. She reached her bag, and paused.

This was it. She hadn't opened this bag in… In a long time, now. She could see the Republic sigil still printed on the front flap, the chromium clasps glinting against the moonlight. She reached out, her hands carefully unclasping the flap.

The last time she'd opened the bag was… It had been over three years, then, when she had recovered the surviving holocron collection of the Almas enclave during a solo expedition to hunt Jedi artifacts. Her order had been, of course, to destroy them all, but she… It didn't bear thinking about it anymore.

Besides old Jedi trinkets, there was something much more personally important in that bag. When she had finally broken, under torture and compulsions and her own cowardice, Trilla had been handed her lightsaber, and ordered by the Grand Inquisitor to destroy it. She had been a failure at being an Inquisitor too, of course, which is why she had only hidden it. It didn't fit in her hands anymore.

Trilla heard a noise, and looked up to see Merrin staring at her from the doorway. They locked eyes, and Merrin started slowly walking towards the bed, eyes never straying from one another. Trilla was the first to look away.

"Forgive me, I…" Trilla licked her lips, eyes watching the moonlight illuminate the floor, "I had forgotten for a moment of our bond. It was not my intention to wake you."

"You are incorrect, Jedi. I was already awake and restless on my own," Merrin replied with mirth, a quirk of a smile playing on her lips, "Nightmares, earlier in the night," she mentioned.

"Ah, yes, I must have been too drugged out of my mind still to notice those," Trilla answered.

Merrin's faint snort of amusement brought Trilla's attention back to her, "You passed out in a matter of moments, It was no wonder you slept so soundly until now," the other woman said, "Either way I'm glad you did not have to suffer through it." Her lips pinched in concern, dispelling any signs of the smile that had been present there, "You still feel pain, I can feel it too. what has you so restless now that you have woken?"

Trilla moved, carefully bringing her legs back into the bed, before going to rest her back on the headboard, "I can't feel the force anymore." She said. She felt like she had lost all hope, all that had been part of her in the past gone with her last connection to the force, "It still calls to me, very faintly, but I can only hear it through our bond."

Merrin moved closer, sitting at the edge of the bed. She lifted her eyes to stare deeply into Trilla's, "I understand your plight, to feel angry and frustrated. Terrified."

Trilla took a deep breath, closed her eyes and looked away. She let herself center her emotions before turning back, "I was going to ask you how could you know what I felt," she smiled a bitter smile, "But we both share in this, don't we, the circumstances of the ones that survived."

Trilla moved herself further away, almost to the other side of the bed, patting the empty space she had vacated. Merrin, hesitantly, inched into it, turning her back to the headboard, her shoulder a breath away from Trilla's new prosthetic.

"We have both lost too much, in our short lives, too much was taken from us. We were forced to watch our loved ones die in front of our eyes, and were powerless to stop any of it." Merrin whispered, the silence of the room almost sacred, "And in the end we both chose the path that would let us live. I do not think it transgression, contrary to what the Jedi might. 

"If I had not chosen to stay alive, Cal would be dead. And so would Cere and Greez. And so would you." She looked at Trilla, her eyes deep black pools one could get eternally lost on if not careful, "If you had not decided to stay alive, then, Cere would not have decided to protect Cal instead of fighting the Armored Man, and I and Greez would be all that was left to mourn the death of the Jedi.

"You can't change what was any more than I can, but you're alive. And that means you can still change what will be," Merrin declared.

Trilla looked away, she could feel her lips starting to tremble. She felt… She didn't know how to feel, not about all the many horrible things she had done as an Inquisitor. She was selfishly glad she was assigned to hunt down Jedi artifacts instead of living Jedi, for most of her assignments. She felt hollow, the pathetic self-pity of her only comfort being that she might have been, perhaps, less of a monster than the others.

She knew the Jedi were wrong in so many ways, could see it now more clearly than she ever could while being an Inquisitor, more clearly than she ever could while she was a padawan herself. She still felt a deep pang of anger at Cere for having betrayed her and her fellow Jedi's position, but... What had come out of any of that misplaced anger? Only more despair to fuel the fires of the Empire. The fires of her own pyre.

She looked back to Merrin, who met her eyes with the same forlorn look, "You saw what happened, when the cyborg killed my people," Merrin said, in a low, hushed whisper, "My beloved."

Trilla nodded shakily. The memories were all too easy to come to the surface of her thoughts.

"There was an old dathomirian legend, from long, long ago," Merrin continued, "The story of the god which first put the stars in the sky. When you needed help most, it said, you'd only need pray to the stars." Her eyes shined with unshed tears, "And I did, many, many times. But sometimes the only thing that can help us is ourselves. We just need to learn to live with what we need to do."

A beat of silence passed, before Trilla let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding, "I was afforded a rare chance to view the Jedi as they really were, outside of Imperial influence," she said, "Outside of Republic propaganda, outside of the tenets I had grown up entrenched in." Trilla slowly closed her eyes, her heart heavy, "I saved many artifacts. Things from eons past that my angry heart had stilled at the thought of destroying." She opened her eyes again, tracking the moonlight as it ever so slowly moved through the floor, "My master might've been a finder but she had always had the heart of a scholar."

They were both crying. Trilla could hear the sniffs the other woman let out. Her own tears fell down her face.

"It seems foolish to think so, now, but I wish none of this had happened," Merrin said with a watery chuckle.

Trilla could feel her lips curl in a similar expression, "The Jedi were wrong in many things, I can see that now," She responded, "But they didn't deserve what happened to them. No one deserves any of what happened to any of us."

She felt out of breath, her tears finally drying. Carefully she inclined her head to rest on Merrin's shoulder. Her hand found the other woman, their momentary silence companionable.

"There was a witch once," Trilla paused, feeling Merrin's curiosity through their bond, "Not from Dathomir, though. At least I don't believe she was." she answered the unasked question, "She lived a very, very long time ago, and lived many lives. A holocron that she recorded, close to the end of her life, detailed many of her actions, but it did not give much context to why she did what she had done. Except for one thing. She sought out to destroy the force entirely, to bring it all down."

Trilla could feel Merrin's curiosity, the vague impression of a raised eyebrow along their bond, "Was such a thing possible?"

Trilla shrugged, "At first I didn't understand her purpose at all, not when I first found the artifact, But now…" She paused, gathering her thoughts, "Now I realise she wanted to end this interminable cycle, to put an end to what fools the force makes of us." 

She sighed, before stretching, grasping Merrin's hands once again in hers before she settled herself against the headboard.

"I do not know much of this Empire," Merrin said, "Only that it is just another shape taken by whatever had come before. Cal doesn't seem to want to accept it, perhaps the pain of seeing the wrongs committed by people tied to his most precious memories is too much a shock in too short a time." She continued, "I know only, from what I can see of what things became, that perhaps this witch of yours was right," Merrin said. "But then again, maybe too many things in this universe are too unfair for that to have made any difference."

Trilla looked at their now intertwined hands, Merrin's thumb reflexively drawing circles against her palm. She was never used to physical intimacy. It had been frowned upon by the Jedi and then she was too afraid of any of it in her time in the Inquisitorius. Her connection to Merrin, perhaps, is what was different. How her moves were always telegraphed through their bond, how Trilla could tell she never intended to hurt. It felt raw to have someone hold her hand after so many years without affection.

She looked at Merrin, her face so close to hers she could feel the soft exhales of her breath, could see the lines of her tattoos running across her face. "The emperor, the one that was the chancellor before… The truth is—I can see now—that he did not ever need to have done any of what he did to have the power that he now has." Trilla said, her words heavy and tired, "If he had joined the Jedi, I can see that he could've had much more power than he will ever have as he is now." 

Trilla sighed, her eyes meeting Merrin's "Cal did not lie, to you, when he said that it had not been the Jedi who killed your sisters," Trilla intoned, "Though I think now he might've been lying to himself all the while. The Jedi, in the end, were still responsible for that, in many, many ways. And for that I'm sorry. For all of it."

Merrin brought one hand to Trilla's face, caressing her cheek lightly. Trilla let out a reflexive whimper, "Of all here, I am perhaps the person has the least reason to not forgive you." Merrin said, "I have seen your life, through my own eyes, have felt your pain. Felt your grief. Your anger. I know what it is to be lost, to be alone."

Merrin embraces her, Trilla's head falling down to the other woman's shoulder once again, "I wish you to know that you are not. not anymore. We are connected now, and I am here to share in your pain, the same way that you have shared in mine," Merrin promises.

* * *

It was not long before they fell asleep, together.

The morning sun was what woke Merrin, who, a little disoriented, brought her hand to her face. 

She could feel a presence to her right, strong and steady, and only after a couple of seconds she realized that it was Trilla. It was Trilla who was hugging her. It was the other woman's head pressed tightly to her shoulder, her nose at the nape of her neck.

She flushed with what came immediately to mind, Trilla's fingers intertwined with hers. 

Her sudden alertness seemed to wake Trilla, who immediately froze up and stayed still for a long moment, faint embarrassment coming through their bond, "You're awfully warm, did you know that?" Trilla asked in an almost convincing bid at confidence.

"We witches…" Merrin murmured, as she turned her head such that her mouth hovered over Trilla's ear, "Our magicks run strong through our bodies." Merrin dragged the words out, broadcasting entirely too much amusement over their shared bond for the other woman to take anything she said seriously. 

She could feel Trilla flush beside her, and lets out a chuckle, to which Trilla responded by chuckling nervously along.

"I was thinking," Merrin said, after they spent some time in silence, "Your witch?"

"Well, I thought you were my witch," Trilla responded, before audibly snapping her mouth shut, clearly having talked on instinct. 

Merrin smirked at the interjection, but continued her thoughts, mostly out of a desire to distract Trilla out of her own embarrassment, "What she thought of doing… I have had similar thoughts before. Of ending this pain, this injustice, in any way that I could." She said, releasing a deep breath, "I felt so isolated and angry on Dathomir, so powerless to what had happened to me. To my sisters. And it seemed, as we left Dathomir and I learned more about the galaxy, that this kind of injustice, of pain, it is entirely too common. So many lost, so many hurt. And for what."

Trilla grasped Merrin's hand from where it rested close to hers above Merrin's belly, "I don't know. Truly," she said. "Do you know, in the times before the purge and…" Trilla paused, gathering her thoughts, "And maybe even now. The Jedi would have thought I had lost some of my soul when I lost my arm. that replacing it, or using an aid in its place would've been a quest for more power. Something to be frowned upon."

Trilla scoffed, the sound bitter against the silence of the room, "It's times like these that I am most lost, thinking that even if the Jedi had not been brought down by the Sith… This cycle would not end. These injustices, born out of the lack of care and privilege. This is what would've been left of the Jedi, in the end."

Trilla looked up, eyes locking directly with hers, "Maybe this is all that's left of the Jedi."

A small noise shattered their moment, Trilla gasping as Cere entered the room. She moved to draw partially out of Merrin's reach, until Cere held a hand up.

"I'm… Trilla, I'm sorry" Cere said, getting close to the bed, "I… There were moments where I had thought that I should bring back the Order… I was so disconnected, so lost in my grief for you, for every one of us, that I was distracted by the things the Jedi had accepted as truth." She extended her hand, and carefully, Trilla took hold of it, "Maybe I would've been one of those Jedi that wouldn't have accepted a prosthetic limb or organ, simply because of blind obedience to tradition."

Cere kneeled, before Trilla, "But now, after all those years, after so many lost, so many turned because of the ultimate failure of the Order in teaching its members to question what they were taught as true… I can see now how much I failed you, how much the Order had failed the youngest of us when the war came to its conclusion. I want you to know that this isn't who I am anymore." She confided, her mouth pulled in a desolate smile.

"I'm no Jedi," Cere said, "And maybe there should be no more Jedi like the ones before us."

Trilla smiled a true smile for the first time in what Merrin could feel was a long, long time, extending her new arm to grip Cere's hand, squeezing it softly before speaking, "I didn't really think I was going to… That I was going to be alive anymore, to be able to ask for forgiveness for what I've done. I was a monster."

Feeling Cere's imminent protest, Trilla held out her hand, "Don't object to that… You know it's true. And I've done horrible things." She paused, her smile turning a touch melancholy, "But above all I was a coward. I was happy to be sent on missions to recover Jedi artifacts."

Trilla let her head fall against her chest, closing her eyes. Merrin relayed to her a warm affectionate feeling through their bond, a jolt of energy, like a gust of air. She could feel how tightly controlled the other woman had been keeping her emotions, the fear of expressing her vulnerability still too ingrained.

She continued, "I was happy with how few times I was sent to capture Jedi. How few times the Jedi I was sent to capture decided to fight to death. And even so, I still followed those orders. Maybe I will never really be able to atone for what I've done. For the pain and suffering I was part of," She paused. 

Taking a breath and looking at Merrin, Trilla's smile turned hopeful, "But, as a smart woman once told me, I'm alive to try."

 _She doesn't want to cry,_ she heard Trilla say, and it took a moment to realize it had been inside her head, _She doesn't want to bring down the mood, doesn't want us to suffer her sorrow._

And it seemed to be the case, because Cere took a deep breath and stood up once again, clearing her throat, "I was looking for Merrin, actually. That's why I came here."

"Oh?" was what Merrin said, still looking intently at Trilla. What she thought to Trilla was something else, _You should talk to her._

She received a small nod from Trilla, who smiled freely while holding Cere's hand.

Trilla turned to the side, then, to rummage through her bag. And while Merrin had turned to look at Cere, she did catch a brief glint of metal slipping from one of the sides. It was gone before she could look back.

"Yeah, breakfast is done," Cere said, bringing Merrin's attention fully to her, "Greez prepared everything with Cal's help," Cere continued, "Force knows I can't be trusted next to the kitchen," she complained, a small smile on her face.

Merrin laughed. It was true, she had tasted Cere's cooking more than once while traveling on the _Mantis_ , and it had been an unforgettable experience.

"You know, I was going to bring something to you once you woke up," Cere continued, looking at Trilla, who looked back inquisitively, "But if you're feeling up to it, and we take it _slowly,_ " she added, a clearly skeptical tone, "You could come eat with us."

Merrin could feel Trilla's excitement, palpably, but a sudden dash of disappointment soon sparked through.

"I wouldn't be able to really walk without disturbing the injury, I don't think." Trilla said, testing the flexibility of her new arm, as she lightly touched the meeting point between her torso and the prosthetic's base.

Merrin knew what to do. _Do you trust me?_ She sent through their bond.

There was a slight pause, after which Trilla, having looked at her curiously, nodded. _Of course._

Merrin's eyes glowed bright green, and her hands were encased in magic as she directed it towards Trilla, carefully lifting her into the air.

"Ah! Yes, uhh… Thank you, Merrin, that's... Yes." Trilla all but babbled, her cheeks flushing dark. It only got worse as she turned to Cere, who looked on the scene with a wide smirk.

They went through a short corridor, passing by two other doors on their way to a wide arched entranceway, which itself led to the main room of the safehouse. When they reached the breakfast table, Greez had just been serving a plate of eggs to Cal, who was taking a sip of caf.

He promptly spat it back in the cup, eyes going wide as the eggs in front of him, looking between Merrin and Trilla in an almost frantic manner.

Greez just smirked at them, three hands on his waist while a fourth grabbed a napkin to thrust at Cal's wide-eyed face. Merrin settled Trilla in an empty chair, taking a seat on the other one immediately to her side.

Greez didn't even look as Cal blindly grabbed the napkin, instead striding towards Trilla, pausing as they were face to face to stare deeply into her eyes. Trilla answered with an awkward tight-lipped curve of her lips.

"You know!" he said, tone gruff, "I've no much concern about you, all this sword waving and all. As long as you don't get the shiny bits of your laser sword on my face."

He paused, carefully blinking his eyes, "And mind you, the repairs of the scratches you left on the windscreen of the Mantis were paid by Cere here," He pointed to Cere, who just smiled as Trilla flushed lightly.

"That I did," Cere answered.

Greez nodded, "So don't you even sweat it. But what I really mean is: Do you like your nuna eggs sunny side up?"

Trilla's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but after a brief moment of silence she responded "I… I, yes. Yes I enjoy them perfectly fine sunny side up." she paused for a moment, before continuing, "And for what is it worth, Mr. Dritus, I'm sorry for any damage done to you or your ship." Trilla said, a small constipated look on her face, "And I thank you for your help."

It was clear, Merrin thought amused, that she had never been the best at these kinds of social interactions.

Greez just waved his hands, picking up Cal's now empty caf cup and walking towards the kitchen, "Ah, like I said, don't sweat it!"

The rest of the meal passed by in relative silence, Cere making some small talk with Cal, before he cleared his throat and looked directly at Trilla.

"You uh…" He stammered, "Uh… Well, Cere said you had an, uh… Change of heart?" He winced at his wording, looking at Trilla with an apologetic air.

She finished swallowing her eggs, looking somewhat expressionless at the window, "Yes… Yes you could say that." she paused, finally looking Cal head on, "There's not much I can say to you, Cal Kestis, except to ask your forgiveness. For hurting your friends, for hunting you across the galaxy. I have come to realize how foolish my position on the Inquisitorius was, how warped I had let myself become."

She interrupted herself, taking a deep breath. "Had been _forced_ to become, to do the things I did." She looked to the windows again, her face slowly slouching into a tired expression, "I… If I am being honest, I feel completely broken," she confided a discomfited smile fixed to her face. "All of the systems that I had ascribed to in the past have shown to be corrupt and damaging in some way, and, while I want to strive to leave the galaxy a better place than i found it, I just find myself incredibly disillusioned with… Well, with everything."

"There's one thing, though, that I can really make a promise for," Trilla finally said, drawing a deep breath and looking to Cal intently, "I might be no Jedi, not anymore. But I'm not about to let myself be defined by what the Sith think, either."

Cal was silent for a long time, looking around the room somewhat disquieted, before focusing on Trilla again, "You're not a coward, you know," He said, "You're not a coward for having let yourself go with the torture, the mind games… The indoctrination," Cal continued, his lips pursed in consternation.

"There's one thing that I touched by mistake—or that you threw at me on purpose, I can't tell which—but…" Cal looked at the nearby center table where the Second Sister's lightsaber laid, Trilla followed his gaze, "But I really get it… I don't think anyone ever imagines how… It was hard feeling what you felt, then, but I don't really regret it, not really. We never really know everything that there's to know, Master Jaro always said, and I guess I didn't really want to know some things that I needed to."

Merrin suddenly understood, her attention snapping to Cal, "The holocron…" she murmured. 

Cal nodded, "What you said to me, Merrin… What I felt when I touched that lightsaber…" He said, "A lot of pieces that had been hovering on my mind for a long time finally clicked into place. The Jedi Order, the way we… _They_ dealt with the force, maybe, they way we were taught."

Cal shook his head, a bitter smile forming on his face, "Cere… If we remade the jedi order, then, like that. Even if we managed to evade Imperial attention for that long. What then?" Cal pleaded, "What would we really have become, in the end, other than just continuing perpetuating the same stuff, forever." Cal looked up at Trilla, who had a frown on her face, "I destroyed it, you know. The holocron."

Trilla's eyebrows shot up once again, she exhaled slowly and slumped back in her chair. She had a strange faraway look, a small smile on her face as she said "For what's it worth, Cal Kestis, I think you did the right thing. I know it means nothing, for me to say it… But I'm very glad that you destroyed it."

Cal just shook his head at her, a small smile playing on his lips as finally some tension left his frame, "It means a lot, actually. It really means a lot."

They fell into a comfortable silence after that. With a certain understanding passing between Trilla and Cal, it was clear that the mood had been lifted. At least BD-1 didn't seem to hold a grudge, Merrin thought.

She smiled as Cal offered to help adjust Trilla's new prosthetic with BD-1, while she had a fine discussion on the merits of eggs with runny yolk with Greez. Occasionally she would sneak a glance at Cere, who was ostensibly meditating on a cushion nearby, but Merrin could tell was herself looking to Trilla every so often, a contented smile on her face.

The great surprise came after breakfast.

"Well, you'll have to survive without Greez's expertise in the kitchen for a few days," Cere said, interrupting their discussion on methods of cybernetic augmentation.

"Oh?" Cal asked, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"I'm afraid so kid," Greez said, "We need supplies. Thing is, if we were in the _Mantis,_ it'd be real easy to do a couple quick jumps, but as it stands we need to do a resupply run for the safehouse too."

Cere nodded in agreement, "It's just a quick drop to Ord Mantell, it's not very far, but you all need to stay sharp," she said, "We haven't seen any movement out here yet, and we're pretty far out of the way, but I wouldn't take any chances."

Merrin felt strangely at the news. As if she had a bad feeling about it, but she eventually decided to not dwell on it. It was likely just a reflexive mood whiplash from Trilla's end of the bond. 

It was still all so new, a mental construct that she had never experienced before, but Merrin thought it was comforting to have Trilla's mind just a thought away. Maybe there was truth to what the Jedi had said. _Live in the here and now,_ Cal had mentioned once, that his master used to say.

Maybe Merrin should do just that.

* * *

Trilla sat rested against a tree right close to the safehouse, the wind rustling the grass and the trees. from this position she could see the valley below, the lazy river passing by slowly.

With a sudden metallic clank and then the roar of engines, the _Stinger Mantis_ went flying by above, ascending into the stratosphere. 

After the hearty breakfast, they spent a good time talking, and Trilla could admit to find a sense of peace in communing with people in an amicable form again, after years in the Inquisitorius, and then, before that, the Clone Wars.

She wasn't yet settled into the group, it was true, but clearing the air with the crew had made her feel free again for the first time in a long time. When it approached what Greez considered 'perfect lunch time', he set about to start making food for everyone, shooing Cere and Cal as they offered to help, but accepting Merrin's offer. She had smiled wide at Merrin's feeling of satisfaction, as the other woman walked in a haughty strut towards the kitchen, pausing on the way to smirk back at Cal and Cere, who predictably rolled their eyes.

Lunch was a prolonged affair, Greez having prepared a spread of different dishes, including—and she was sure it was at Cere's request—a spread of Panteer style flatbread with a classic version of alderaanian stew. They had all helped with washing the dishes, Greez's only permitted help in the kitchen.

She could still not walk very far, from the force exhaustion, and likely physical one as well. Besides which her new prosthetic was still healing, so Cere had—with a very serious, very earnest face—told her to take it easy. 

Which is what led her here, having asked BD-1 to hijack one of the garage's maintenance carts. The little droid had, after a brief talk to Cal, agreed—and after some tense moments where it looked like they had lost control and were about to roll down the valley, cart and all—successfully made their way back.

She had picked this spot precisely because of that, in fact. A beautiful view, good wind, out of direct contact with the sun, and best of all, close to the house. No need to inform Cere that she had almost fallen to her death rolling across three klicks of grassy inclines.

From behind her she could hear soft footsteps, and it wasn't long before Cal made himself known, a steaming cup of caf floating in front of her face. Trilla smiled, bringing up her hand to grasp the mug.

"Thank you," She said, as Cal sat beside her. She siped the caf, and her eyes went wide. 

Cal huffed a laugh, "Took me by surprise too, no idea what Merrin put into it, but it tastes pretty great," he said.

Trilla nodded, taking another sip of it. She took a deep breath before looking at Cal, "Do you remember the spiced caf from the refectory? I think it was Master Ti that gave the idea to put it on the menu after so many people had started to smuggle it in from the military ration packs."

Cal chuckled a bit, taking another sip from his mug, before losing his smile and looking to the ground somberly, "They're all dead, aren't they?" He asked, choked up.

Trilla just looked at the valley again, her gaze venturing far off, to the middle distance, "I don't know." She replied, at last, "I really don't know. Most of them, probably. But not all," She lifted her hand to hold Cal's shoulder with her prosthetic, "Not all of them. The Empire's propaganda would have you believe that the Jedi are all gone, but many, _many_ of them are still out there, hiding. Living their lives," She paused, taking another sip of the caf, "The same way that we are," She finished.

"Yeah…" He said, a despondent look on his young face. He looked so young like this, Trilla thought, even if she wasn't that much older than him, "I guess that's the most I could expect," he continued.

"Barriss Offee is alive, I know that much," Trilla said, earning a surprise eyebrow-raise from Cal, "Quite a surprise to me, too, but she escaped—or perhaps was _escaped_ out of her prison cell not long after the end of the war," she continued.

"That's not bad," Cal said, a pensive look to his face, "Anyone else?"

Trilla inclined her head in his direction, "That I know of, many, _many_ padawans managed to escape, so did many a knight."

The silence stretched between them for a moment, not as much uncomfortable as contemplative.

"I had a class under Master Luminara, once. Barriss was there," Cal said eyes gazing into the distance, "I never would've expected her to—" He stopped himself, thinking something over before shrugging, "—I guess no one expects people do fall to the dark side, in the end."

"It's not real, you know," Trilla said, drawing a questioning glance from Cal, "The whole talk the Order always gave us, about the dark side." She inhaled a deep breath, resting the now empty mug against the soft grass, "The thing is that the dark side isn't a thing that enters you and dominates your life and make you do things you wouldn't do," She continued, watching as his gaze turns melancholy, "In a way that's the largest lie the Jedi ever told."

"What is _it,_ then?" Cal asked, a yearning for answers to questions he likely hadn't thought of before.

"It's inside us, it has _always_ been inside of us, _all_ of us," she said, a bitter smile on her face, "The dark side is as natural to us as anything else in this universe, it's love and it's hatred and, equally, it's compassion. What makes—what we call—dark-siders like the Sith act in the way that they do, is that _that_ is all that has ever been taught to them, to _us._

"The Sith are only the way they are because they come from ex-Jedi, and Jedi have been taught, above all else, that there is no return from the dark side, that once you have fallen nothing can bring you back. They teach us all that once you've 'fallen down that dark path' there is no stopping it from controlling you to cruelty."

Cal looked troubled, his eyes straying to the valley below them.

Trilla took another deep breath, "The truth is that anything that is sufficiently bad is going to attract bad people to it, that's true of the Sith, but that was true of the Jedi as well. The opposite of hatred isn't detachment and inaction, but in my life I've seen detachment and inaction cause more pain than love ever did."

"I…" Cal paused, his brow drawn in concentration, "Master Tapal wasn't a bad man, he was always kind and good, and helped anyone he could," He looked lost, as if he didn't know if he was strong enough to say what he wanted to, "But he wasn't very connected either, I… I loved him."

Cal looked up again turning to Trilla, eyes brimming with unshed tears, "I loved him like a father, and I don't think he'd ever say it back to me if I had decided to express it. Not because he was incapable of that, but because the Code would compel him to let go of attachments."

Trilla felt tears run down her own cheeks, her eyes closing against the visage of the valley, "The Jedi greatest lie, really, was that there is no emotion," She let the words out, a sad, desolate whisper, "And that lie caused more pain and suffering to us than any other."

Cal looked up, a look of hope, tempered with heartbreak. He brought his hand to Trilla's shoulder, squeezing it, "But we're still here," he whispered.

She smiled back, a bitter thing, but more open than any smile she had likely smiled before. She had people she could rely on. It was a powerful thing to be able to rest easy in that knowledge.

Cal let go of her shoulder, before suddenly jumping up, startling Trilla with a grin, "I'm gonna go on a training run with BD-1," he explained, "Maybe do some laps to get rid of the restlessness." He checked his pocket, bringing up his personal comm, "Comm me if you need anything."

She nodded, and watched as he departed, doing a couple somersaults over the shrubbery before disappearing from view.

She settled back, again, against the rough white bark of the tree. She watched, lazily, as a pod of brith flew by, their unhurried movements against the wind slowly lulling her to sleep.

Trilla fell asleep to the sound of the wind.

When she woke next, there was only silence. She frowned, slowly turning to look around. The sound of the wind had quieted down, but so had the sounds of the animals, the chirping of the birds.

A quick look at her chrono answered her first thought, it was still quite early in the afternoon. Slowly, and in very small movements so as to not make too much noise, Trilla got up. She knew Cere would have her confined to the bed if she distended something while stretching. Better safe than sorry, though. She tried to extend her senses with the force, but, much to her frustration, it resulted in nothing.

With a sudden shock she realized what was wrong: She couldn't feel her bond with Merrin anymore.

Trilla was torn: on one hand her most pressing desire was to run back towards the safehouse, in search of Merrin, but she had a _very_ bad feelings about this.

She tapped her comm, but there was only static. Something had happened, she was sure of it. She thought about it for a moment, weighting the pros and cons of walking on her own.

She decided to sneak back into the safehouse. Even if she pulled a muscle or dislocated the new prosthetic it was better than to wittingly fall into a trap by giving her position away. 

Slowly walking towards the direction of the house, Trilla used all her training to remain in as much silence as possible, pausing briefly to catch her breath on the way to the main room's window. 

She sneaked to the edge of the window, taking a peak out of the corner of her eye into the inside. What she saw disturbed her.

The interior of the house was ransacked, everything turned upside down, drawers emptied and all its contents scattered on the floor. With trepidation she walked in, activating the door proximity sensor.

Not pausing to look for too long to the scattered mess, she moved quickly towards her room. It seemed it was as looted as everything else in the vicinity, the small quantities of items that had laid inside drawers were thrown about, and her bag was missing. The people who had done this—whoever they were—had been clearly hurried in their search, not every single place having been searched for.

There's one thing they had missed.

Slowly walking towards her bed, Trilla gingerly sat down on its edge, and with some consideration to her range of movement, stuck her prosthetic arm inside the gap formed between the mattress and the plasteel frame.

She brought the arm back, and it held her lightsaber.

She hadn't realized it had fallen from her bag, but she was relieved to see it even if her initial intentions were to be rid of it, to separate it from the other Jedi relics, eventually to be disposed of. Her affection for it was only surpassed by her shame in still having it, her shame in still clinging to something pure like it. 

She inspected it with care, running her fingers on its form. She had been too out of control, at the time, relishing in the fact that she still lived, even as the price of her continued existence weighed on her, to realize the real reason she had never destroyed it. She had felt many of these truths laid bare in the few days since she had been rescued, things she didn't want to, or simply could not, realize at the time.

This was the last remaining physical connection to her past self, to the Trilla Suduri that had played in the temple's creches, that had made friends with so many other beings despite the Order's stance on attachment. The Trilla who had held the younglings as the Imperial troops swarmed their position. The Trilla who died in an interrogation chamber in Nur.

She ignited it. A bright green blade appeared out of the hilt.

Taking a deep breath, and adjusting the saber in her hand, she deactivated it, and turned to run outside. 

Just as she was about to leave the safehouse, she heard a small beep coming from under the main room's table. It halted her in her tracks.

Holding her lightsaber at the read, Trilla turned back to examine the table, slowly approaching it with as much caution as possible. She was scared nearly out of her wits when BD-1 popped from under it, jumping up and down while thrilling and beeping.

After calming her breathing, Trilla lifted her hand to her mouth, making a shushing noise, which BD-1 thankfully heeded.

"Don't make too much noise, we don't know what happened here," she said, before a thought occurred to her, "Come to think of it, BD-1, Do you know what happened here?"

BD-1 bobbed his head, quickly shooting a holorecordining projection to the floor. It displayed Cal sneaking into the house, seeing some shadowy figures in the living room and then quickly ducking under the kitchen counter. _"Alright, BeeDee, I'm going to confront them, but I want you to get out of the way and hide, they've got ion grenades and I don't want you caught in the crossfire."_ He had said, the holorecording shutting down shortly after.

It was pretty clear to Trilla what had happened, "They got him, didn't they?" She asked BeeDee, just to be sure.

The small droid let out a long, despondent, _boop_ noise, his head slowly lowering.

"It's alright, little friend, we're going to see what we can do about that," Trilla responded. A couple of days away from the dark side and she had already connected with a small creature. Cere would be proud. She rolled her eyes at herself before turning back to BeeDee.

"Do you know where they took him?" She asked, extending her arm to the small droid. BD-1 responded with an affirmative beep, quickly jumping on Trilla's shoulder, "Then let's go, we've got a crew to track."

Once they reached the outside again, Trilla started looking around. She might not have the force on her side anymore, but she was still an experienced soldier. 

It wasn't long before she spotted the tracks: There were three distinct footprints and two drag marks, leading into the forest. With as much quiet as she could manage, Trilla started to follow.

She passed a small stream on the way, fish making themselves known occasionally, as they jumped out of the water, and for a moment she was concerned with losing the tracks, but they reappeared clearly on the other side.

it wasn't hard at all to follow the tracks, which put Trilla on edge. If someone wasn't concerned with covering their tracks it meant that they either had done it on purpose with the intention of laying a trap, that they had no need to cover their tracks because they thought they could win any fight, or that they were completely incompetent.

She was inclined to dismiss the last theory. If they had captured Cal—and presumably Merrin—they likely weren't completely incompetent at all. Which left her with two non-ideal options. Theoretically, she could wait for Cere and Greez to return to Dantooine, but their travel would take at least two days at maximum speed, and either way, with comms down there was no way to warn them to either come back early or avoid the house when on landing approach.

That left her with the unfortunate possibility that she was the only one left to rescue whoever was that had been captured.

She started to approach a clearing, the tracks on the ground widening, which meant that this was likely the place. Slowly, on account of her still-healing injury, Trilla kneeled behind a heavy bush, parting the branches gently so as not to make too much noise. She had been right, this was the place.

There were three heavily armored individuals there, one wearing what clearly was some style of mandalorian helmet. Bounty hunters.

Worst of all, she could see Merrin and Cal between them, on the ground, covered with haptic holographic shock nets, and with heavy force suppression collars around their necks. Cal was unconscious, a deep purple bruise in his forehead attested to the incapacitating head wound. Merrin seemed to be in better conditions, but her hands were tied together behind her back.

That was when Merrin spotted her. Her eyes widened for a moment before she could suppress the instinct. It was poor luck on their part that one of the bounty hunters turned to watch Merrin just as she did.

They turn around, seeing her crouched low against the foliage, "JEDI!" they screamed, drawing the attention of the other two.

"Stay out of the way!" She screamed to BD-1, who bobbed his head in agreement, and turned his body to leave, but not before sending a volley of high voltage shock darts flying towards the bounty hunters, taking down only the leftmost one, who collapsed to the ground screaming before falling silent.

The mandalorian's shields absorbed the electric attack, before they took off flying with their jetpack. 

The other heavily armored bounty hunter stepped to the side, the dart fizzing out with a small puff of blue smoke against the ground, before they brought their heavy repeating blaster up and started firing.

Trilla ignited her lightsaber, deflecting most of the initial shots on instinct alone, before throwing herself sideways and ducking behind a large rock. It wouldn't be too much of an obstacle for long, and she heard the bounty hunter running towards her. In a move that set her remaining shoulder muscles ablaze with pain, she used her prosthetic arm to propel herself upwards.

The bounty hunter rounded the corner just as she was at the height of her jump, and when she let gravity take its course and carry her down, she turned her lightsaber so that she would stab them from above. Her blade caught them between shoulder and neck armor, sinking in deep.

She turned back towards the clearing, running towards Merrin and Cal and expecting to find the mandalorian. She couldn't find them, but Merrin was still conscious, which meant that if she managed to free her they could be able to stand together against the remaining bounty hunter. 

Just as she was about to reach for the fallen, unconscious bounty hunter on the forest floor, the mandalorian descended from the sky, armored boots hitting her lightsaber hand, pinning it to the ground. The force of the impact crushed the servos, her lightsaber falling down a couple of steps beyond her reach. 

That was when the servos' sensors decided to overload, sending a forced feedback to her remaining nerves, and Trilla screamed from the pain, going almost limp and falling to the ground on her knees.

The mandalorian moved slowly towards her, pausing to pick up her lightsaber, inspecting it as they looked down from their upright position, "So… This little Jedi can't use the force, eh?" They say with an amused tone.

Trilla forced herself to take a deep breath, before looking at their helmet visor, "I'm no Jedi," She said, her tone hard but pained.

The Bounty hunter only chuckled bringing up their net bowcaster, and aiming at Trilla, "Ha! Well, I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to tell that to the Inquisitors when we deliver to them the other two Jedi," they boasted.

Trilla only smiled, her lips thin as she cast a furtive glance at Merrin before nodding once, "Oh, I wouldn't count on that," she rasped, her voice still strained from the pain.

"Oh? And why is that?" The bounty hunter asked, a clear smirk on their face.

Trilla opened her hand, sending her saber off the hunter's hand with as much force as she could, "She's not a Jedi either," she answered. Green light engulfed the lightsaber, before the switch pressed and the green blade pierced through the mandalorian's torso. They stayed still for a moment, before collapsing to the ground, dead.

Trilla slided down to the ground, panting. She scrambled to recover her lightsaber and then crawled towards the mandalorian, patting their pockets for the net controls. 

After some digging about, she found it, a sleek black card with two buttons on it. She clicked the off button, watching as the net disengaged and BD-1 came screaming and beeping out of the bushes, going straight for Cal.

Merrin fell down, her handcuffs clicking open alongside her force collar. Trilla looked over to see her doubled over, untangling her arms from the cuffs before sitting back on her heels. She slowly crawled up to where Trilla was slouched sideways on her knees, a small smile playing on her face as she watched Merrin approach.

There was the sound of a bacta stim injection, and Trilla turned back to see BeeDee holding Cal's head with his utility arms. Cal's head injury still seemed concerning, but the swelling diminished, and after some seconds Cal started to come to.

Merrin practically fell down on top of Trilla, who—eyes closed—laughed, a touch out of breath, catching Merrin. She felt two hands cupping her cheeks and, before she knew it, they were kissing.

Merrin's lips were unerringly soft, her arms strong under her hand. She was enraptured by Merrin, her world reduced to this moment. They broke apart at the sound of someone clearing their throat, and it was with a heavy flush that Trilla remembered that Cal was laying just a few steps away. 

When she looked over, he was smirking with a smug look on his face, sitting on the floor. Merrin whipped around to look at Cal, smiling widely, "Cal Kestis!" Merrin said, out of breath herself, "I will poison your tea!" she exclaimed.

Cal just wheezed a laugh as he coffed from surprise at the witch's words, "Come on, lovebirds, we need to get back to the safehouse," He said, trying to stand up only to almost lose his balance, "We need to get things ready to leave as soon as the _Mantis_ touches down."

He tried taking a step—in the wrong direction, Trilla could see—only to lose balance and fall down on his face, emitting a heavy grunt. Merrin laughed, the sound musical to Trilla's ears.

Slowly they got up together, and started the short walk towards the house, BD-1 leading the way with animated sounds.

* * *

Merrin laid down on the lounge of the _Mantis_ , head resting on Trilla's lap, looking at the stars above on the skylight. She felt relaxed like she had not felt in a very long time, almost tranquil.

Their silence was peaceful, the constant feeling of Trilla's metal fingers running through her hair almost lulling Merrin to sleep.

Merrin closed her eyes, and after a couple of minutes, felt Trilla dip forward. Instead of the kiss she was expecting to receive, she opened her eyes to see Trilla smiling at her, a forlorn spark to her eyes.

A moment later a package floated over Merrin's head, blocking her view of Trilla. Merrin got up, extending her hands to take hold of the package, which she then set down on her lap. 

Trilla's hand snaked into her own, bringing it to her lips for a quick kiss.

"I had hoped you would accept this," She said, voice almost a whisper. Merrin unwrapped the package.

It contained Trilla's lightsaber.

"It's not, well," Trilla said, stumbling over her words slightly, "It doesn't fit me anymore, not like before, but I felt its presence emerge again when you used it."

Merrin grasped the beautiful chromium and bronzium hilt, bringing it closer. She summoned her magic, and ignited it. She could tell the blade's color matches the color of her magic almost perfectly.

Merrin was floored. She felt honored that Trilla would present her with her old lightsaber, a piece of her early childhood.

"You needn't have… This is so much, it's a piece of you."

Trilla grasps Merrin's other hand, their fingers intertwining around the lightsaber, before pulling her in for a smiling kiss. "I'll build myself another one, and, If you want to build one for yourself I'd be happy to help, as I'm sure would Cere and Cal. But in the meantime this should protect you when I… Well, when I'm not there to help." 

Trilla looked back towards Merrin, a teary smile on her lips, "I have nothing else to offer you," she said.

Merrin smiled, hugging a flushing Trilla to her chest, "You're very cute when you're flustered, you know?" she said, and it was true. "You need not offer me anything. The gift of your love will always be more than anything I could ever hope for."

Trilla settled against Merrin as they both stared at the stars above. Merrin's contentment rang in her heart, something she hadn't felt in a long while. She closed her eyes, holding Trilla close as she whispered: 

"After all we have been through, in our lives. After all these years of anguish, of suffering. I had lost all hope that my prayers to the stars would ever be answered. That there would never be an end to my pain. But here we are, together."

Trilla hummed, arms holding Merrin tight. 

"And it's true that there are many things we still need to contend with, in ourselves," Merrin continued, "But in the end, I don't think I was quite right, then. Because I have traveled now, and I have seen the stars. But we don't need them to heed our prayers."

Trilla sighed, and drew Merrin's hand to give it another light kiss, as she turned back to look at the stars, "This is only our beginning."


End file.
